Tom Shugart, one of my contemporaries in Blogdom, is still trying to get a Comment feature on his weblog, so I often simply email him such things. Here he refers to what I sent him in one of my emails. And I point this out because it supports the direction of my ruminations about what kind of men are truly attractive to women, make us want to open our arms, our hearts, and our other body parts to what they offer us and the world.

….I get taken up short by something like this and then really get annoyed — at the everything from the juvenile attitude and form of expression to the impact that such (even though small potatoes compared to what we get in the popular media) has on how the world objectifies women. And then I wind up in an email blitz that really doesn’t change anyone’s mind and wastes too much of my time and energy on such “boys will be boys” posturing.
Maybe it’s because someone at Blog Sisters recently referred to the Native American focus on the Seventh Generation. The Native American Seventh Generation philosophy says that decisions you make today (and also the behavior you model) should take into consideration the impact that these decisions (behaviors) will have on the next seven generations to come after us.

I’ve been gathering up the children’s books that I still have from when my kids were young to give to my grandson. (I know that he’s not old enough yet, but I need to make room in my bookshelves.) I have copies of an illustrated two-volume set of Grimm’s and Anderson’s fairy tales that were mine from the 1940s, and a Mother Goose book that was my daughter’s in the 60s. At b!X’s request ages ago, I sent him his Winnie the Pooh and Dr. Seuss books, so Little Lex is on his own for them.
Oddly enough, b!X called me tonight asking if I still had a book that he remembered from his childhood that included the rhyme about Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod. I had been looking all over for that book but hadn’t been able to figure out what I did with it. As we were on the phone and he was describing the book — big, blue, in a slip-in cardboard cover — I looked over in the corner of my bookcase, and there it was: a 1955 edition of The Illustrated Treasury of Children’s Literature, edited by Margaret Martingnon, still in great shape. He’s trying to track a copy down so that he can read the stories to the toddler that he takes care of. Our family heirloom copy, of course, will go to Lex. But I think first I’m going to read through it, again, myself.
I wish that I knew what became of a large-sized nursery rhyme book I had as a kid. The one thing I remember was a rhyme about a girl who played with matches, and there was an illustration of her running away with her hair on fire and a look of sheer terror on her face. And another about a girl who was always stretching her neck and watching what everyone else was doing. The illustration at the end was of this girl with a neck so long that she had to wheel her head around in a wheel barrow. I had nightmares about those rhymes for years. I can still visualize the illustrations. I’d love to look at them now and see if they’re still as scarey as they seemed back then. I have a feeling I got rid of that book because I didn’t want my kids to have nightmares too. Hmph.
As final note, one of the books I left as part of my bookcrossing.com stuff was picked up and logged in on that site. This is so cool!