Three Young Lives

     I have never given birth to any children...not that I remember, anyway.  I am 51.  Maternal instincts are not within my self-concept.
     Yet, something quite unfamiliar is beating in me--the impulse to knock some sense into the heads of three guys, who have yet to make firm declarations of their life pursuits.  To call them "boys" is inaccurate.  They are in their 20s, and lower 30s.  Don't get me wrong--I love these guys.  Yet, "young men" exceeds their current beings.  Certainly, "men" is beyond of the reach of these individuals today.
     In my 20s, I was an Idealist with a capital "I."  Work pulverized my Idealism, replacing it with necessary Pragmatism, with a capital "P."
     A tone is creeping into my thoughts.  "When I was your age...,"  "Listen to me, I have experience...," "Mom and Dad worked hard to live the life they enjoy now,"  "There is a point at which you need to put issues from your past in the past OR transform those issues into forces to serve you and others toward a better future...."
     When I was in my 20s, and early 30s, I am sure my parents were thinking some of those same thoughts.  They had lived through my father's year in Korea.  They raised three children.  They were involved in professional associations, and served in public office.  They were active in their community--dedicated to creating a better world.  Not with bravado.  They did so with simple, clear acts rooted in deep convictions.
    My grandparents of their son and daughter.  It was a different time.  They were proud.  Their children had exceeded their achievements.  One grandfather completed the eighth grade.  When he sought certification to be a public accountant--a CPA--Pops went to a high school instructor.  He tested his way to deem his worthiness to pursue a career.  He did not test out of responsibility to education, he was tested into--proven to possess the requisite passion for--a career in accountancy.  One grandmother followed the work of her time--a teacher.  Ray--I'm too young to be called Grandpa--was rooted in the family logging and papermill work.  Later, he worked on the railroad.  One grandmother volunteered her gifts in a state hospital.  She fulfilled expectations of her time--motherhood.  Yet, I wonder.  Had times been different might she have unwrapped her gifts--made her way into medicine?  We will never know.
     With all of that said, I don't know how to stifle the tone in my thoughts.  Where is Archie Bunker when you need him?
     I do not know what contributions my three young guys will make to the world.  They have the intellect.  Yet, to date, they lack the aptitude to apply their intellect--to make use of their gifts.
     Technology has marvelous applications that improve many people's lives.  Yet, my three guys do not know the meaning of "white noise."  They lack the recognition requisite to tap technology's marvels.
     They like settle for white noise.  They like don't listen to the world around them.  They like don't look to see where they may offer themselves--their gifts.  Are they guys of their time?  Only with time may we know.
     Never have I conceived a child.  I am not a mother.  Yet, an unfamiliar impulse is beating in me--an unfamiliar tone is creeping into my thoughts.