Carl Setzer

As a parent, I've witnessed many moments of adoration by other parents. Last night, at my dojang's blackbelt awards ceremony (my wife and son both received their belts) I was struck again by parental devotion. Watching my fellow parents, with grandparents, beam with pride at their child's accomplishment was both delightful, and a little sad. Decades ago now, I got to do some projects that helped street involved youth. In that process, I heard stories, terrible stories of (dare I say) evil parents. One of my friends from those days, an Episcopal deacon, shared with me once the power of this juxtaposition. We were sitting next to each other at our church's children's pageant. She pointed out to me the parental adoration. And her deep experience with it's opposite. This, as you would expect, colored her view of such events. I have puzzled about this, too, ever since. How does a human get to be so monstrous? Vicious sociological cycles? Some sort of deficiency wi...

My parents might need to be brought up on child-neglect charges: I had not heard of Leo Lionni until my son insisted we buy some of his books. Laughably, I assumed that Leo Lionni was a character, much like Junie B. Jones (consider the alliterative). I’ve learned otherwise. The recent purchase, “ Alexander and the Wind-Up Mouse ” has been a delight to read. Exploring the art, I expect Eric Carle’ s art was inspired by Lionni’s. As I delight in literature, I wonder why I’ve never encountered his name. Then I wonder if I haven’t. My journey as a father is laden with discovery. Discovering so much that I would expect to have known. Perhaps my mother read to me from Lionni and Carle every night. I do not remember. I do remember such seminal works as “ Harry: The Dirty Dog ”, though. Strange thing, memory. I delighted in Dr. Suess , too. I wonder, at times, whether too much has been lost from my childhood memory. The loss of my mother took with it so much memory. Those moments that w...