Nothing Stops Detroit

My mum and her two siblings came of age in Detroit in the late fifties.  I grew up listening to stories about how my aunt sat in the back of her math class with Diana Ross and how my mum spent her childhood in the city’s museums and libraries.

I’ve only been to Detroit once and I was five, so my own memories of it are slight.  But for all that I feel like it’s in my bones and my blood anyway.  When your family holds fast to certain identities it’s pretty much impossible to distance yourself from them.  And from Detroit I’ve never wanted to.  The pride my family takes in being from Detroit is something that’s stuck with me.

My grandad was a stoic, silent Finn who worked as a welder on the factory floor of the Ford Motor Car company from his twenties until he retired, so my family absolutely depended on Ford, on the automobile, on the manufacturing base of this country.  So for me it’s personal, the loss of American manufacturing.  And I can’t help but see Detroit like a canary in a coal mine, a bit of a bellwether or a tidings of things to come if we don’t collectively get our heads out of our asses.  What’s happened to Detroit could happen anywhere.

And it’s a loss.  Make no mistake.  The way my mum describes getting on a bus and traveling to the city center for art classes every week from the time she was ten has always had a hold on me.  The way she talks about those museums and libraries – it’s the way some people talk about church.  Those places were havens for her, beautiful, graciously appointed public spaces that expanded her understanding of the world and her place in it.  Places that grounded in her a firm sense of the importance of public space, of education, and of art and beauty in one’s surroundings.

So tonight, while watching the Detroit episode of Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown my eye caught on the  image above more than anything else in the show.  I snapped it somewhere in the middle, during a series of shots of the abandoned buildings in the city.  It seems like a room my mum could have spent time in as a child, from the ornately tiled fireplace to the beautiful framing of the windows.  My heart caught in my throat and tears sprang to my eyes.

Of course I know about the deserted buildings in Detroit, the abandoned Packard plant, the grass growing on the 72 city parks that have been closed, but somehow, magically, the spaces in my mum’s stories hadn’t been touched, hadn’t been deserted, the books left behind, as if the occupants were just in too much of a rush.

Ruin Porn, Bourdain says at one point.  He says native Detroiters can’t stand the way people come there just to take photo’s of the photogenic decay.  Who can blame them?  But I’m glad his videographer snapped that one.  This shot made the story of this American city more real to me than any other ever could.  How could we abandon this city?  How could we leave the people there?

This show is amazing, I can’t recommend it highly enough.  Bourdain, with his patented passion for story and people and food really captures a powerful sense of Detroit today.  He isn’t optimistic about the city’s chances, either.  He asks at one point, “is Detroit going to turn things around?”  Only to answer, “I could lie and tell you yes, but you know what?  This city’s screwed.  Only place I’ve ever been that looks anything like Detroit does now?  Chernobyl.  I’m not being funny.  That’s the truth.”

But I’m not sure I agree with him.  I’m not sure I can.  Detroit runs in my blood, after all.  My impression is that Detroit is peopled by stubbornness, tenaciousness, and, well, sisu, which is a Finnish word for a way of being that can not be broken by adversity, only sharpened.  So when I think of Detroit I think of that and I’m inspired by it.

And you know what?  I fucking believe it, too.

Sex and the Single Girl

The Sensuous Woman

Little Lonely reading one of the greatest self help books of all time

Can you read the title of the book Little Lonely is holding in her hands?  It’s called The Sensuous Woman, by “J”  AHAHAHA OMG it’s magnificent.  I found it in a second hand shop some years ago and was drawn to it right away on account of the title.  Well, maybe the subtitle: The first HOW TO book for the female who yearns to be ALL woman.  I knew immediately this gem was destined for my shelf.

The Sensous Woman

The inside cover did nothing to dissuade me.

The Sensous Woman

J had me at the pros and cons of wearing a wig in bed.  Though frankly, her advice on that is nowhere near as brilliant as her advice on wearing makeup.  According to J a woman ought always to wear a bit of eyeliner and rouge, as “today there is only one situation a woman is forced to meet sans makeup – an operation – and several hospitals are beginning to relent on their ridiculously rigid surgery rules.  If ever there is a time when a woman needs her spirits lifted, it’s when they’re about to cut her open.”

Werk it, grrl.

And oh my Gods there’s so much more.  What about the chapter “Where to Meet Men,” in which she advises the married woman looking for a lover to “forget supermarket managers and shoe salesmen.  By the end of the day they hate women.”  Solid gold.

But it’s not all dated high hilarity with J.  In fact, she’s got some solid advice for the woman looking to connect with her body and her lover.  It’s actually for that that I really truly love the book, no joke.

Remember last week when I got my head turned by a boy during the Venus transit to my Sun?  I vowed that day to stop putting my Venus in the corner and to remember to take her out and enjoy her, with or without a lover.  It’s altogether too easy when your heart is sore or you’ve been single for a long time to forget that one of the most magical ways of getting your heart and soul back online is not something that requires another person at all.

In fact, arguably, it all starts and stops with you anyway, so without ever leaving your house you’ve got more than enough company to accomplish the job.

And no, I’m not talking about touching yourself, although certainly, if you’re so moved.  In fact, J devotes the entire third chapter to the importance of masturbation, because, as she says, “you must train like an athlete for the act of love.” (her italics, not mine – I love a woman who knows the value of well placed italics!)  But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  Actually I’m talking about something much deeper, more immediate, and infinitely accessible.  Something you can do in public and really pretty much anytime you think of it.

It’s very simple, really.  Just the act of indulging in your senses.  Sight, touch, sound, and taste.  J devotes the entire second chapter to nine exercises to get a girl back into her skin and her body.  She’s got everything from applying lotion to your naked body before you sleep (on perfumed sheets!) to nice lingerie, but my favorite is the first one.

She asks you to sit at a table with a variety of everyday household objects in front of you.  You know, like a “leather glove, powder puff, cracker, bar of soap, rolling pin, fur hat, dish of tepid water, terry cloth towel, your wig, silk scarf, slice of bread, velveteen pin cushion, piece of lace, feathers, pearl necklace, leaf of a plant and whatever else you fancy…”  (I’m impressed, I’m only missing one of those items!)

The instruction is to dim the lights and, blindfolded, slowly and gently run your hands over the items for approximately ten minutes.  Afterwards, lean back in the chair and re-create the feel of each item in your mind “so that your fingers actually memorize” what they feel like.

I’ll confess, I only did this exercise once.  But it reminded me quite quickly how easy it is to tap into the profound delight of being in your body.  Touch is one of the quickest, most direct ways of getting back inside your body and into the present moment that there is.  Meditation is a wonderful thing, and I am all for mental contemplation, but physical contemplation is something that can be had at any moment and it’s a terrific work out for your Venus.

Venus is all about connection, the ability to give and receive love.  And it’s also about touch, beauty, and sensual experience.  Just because you’re single doesn’t mean you can’t access her powers.  In fact, it’s especially when you’re single that creating these experiences might be the most important.

So with Venus going through Capricorn (the earth signs are the poster girls for sensuality!) I’m reminding myself to get connected to the here and now through touch.  The feel of my jeans on my belly, the weight of my wool scarf, the crispness of clean sheets.  Touch is grounding, yet every time I give into it, my heart lifts.

Go on and give it a try, My Little Silken Powder Puffs.  It’s OK if you feel a little silly at first, and it’s DEFINITELY OK to laugh, because HELLO, but ultimately what have you got to lose?  Nothing you’re going to miss, that’s what.  Let go of your fears, and your sads and your lonelies and just be here now.

John Mayer has made more than one mess with his words, but he got one thing super right.  Your body IS a Wonderland.

Google + Single = JUST DON’T

ready to mingle

Oh man, you guys, I’m so in love with the Google eight ball it’s ridiculous.  I’m trying to come up with a new category for a series of posts about being single and LOOK what it comes up with all on its own!  Are people really searching for “single and ready to mingle?”  I LOVE that one!!

I’ll admit this one had me a little nervous about clicking, but I think I just watched too many made for television movies about hookers meeting their ends at truckstops. WOW.  I had no idea.  It’s an entire underground of hook-ups and love matches heretofore unimagined by me.  Power to ya, truckers and the women that love them!!

Now this one just makes me sad.  Even the top one, which is simple IRS terminology.  In this context it just seems desperate somehow.  Like singles have nothing to lose so they shouldn’t hold back no matter what.  After all, you don’t want to live with your parents forever, do you?  Just be careful, Singles!  If you don’t hold SOMEthing back you’re likely to end up PREGNANT WITH TWINS!!!!!  For realz.

This one’s the worst, though.  I mean, DANG.  Waiting for what?  An Act of God?!  SERIOUSLY?  For the love of Pete.  Or somebody.  Anybody, probably.  This one makes me truly sad.  All the lonely people typing their search terms into the box that led to these being top hits that Google suspects MIGHT BE RELEVANT TO ME.  Shoot me now.  I think I’d rather take my chances with the truckers.

Well, that was fun, but I still don’t have a name for my new category.  If you think of one, please leave it in the comments.

Peace out, yo

Wonder B   AKA  The Lonely Pregnant-With-Twins Truckstop Hooker Waiting on God who still lives with her PARENTS, people, HER PARENTS

O V U M retrograde

Little Lonely did a masterful job on my make-up yesterday. I looked like a mash up between Elizabeth Taylor via Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf and Sheena Easton. Dreadful, really, but Lars liked it. We had a fun day on set shooting the first scenes of Ovum.

Here I am with Will, who made it easy to play a drunken sex crazed nut job. In a nice way. Seriously.

I was anxious about shooting this, my character is neurotic, masochistic, and wholly unstable. One of the reasons I really gave up acting is because it’s just too hard for me to go there without going there. I find it difficult to leave it behind and I’m a perfectionist. It makes it hard on a set or a stage because you have to move between extreme emotions and professional niceties in easy practiced strokes.

I’m a Capricorn. Bottling it up is easy, unleashing it takes a little more effort. And working with Lars sets all my control issues on edge. He writes fantastic, twisted, hilarious scripts, but rehearsals bore him and he doesn’t really care if we hit all his perfect words perfectly. He’s not interested in “good” films, he likes “bad” ones. He isn’t looking for perfection. He’s looking for something raw, rough, and awkward. Every scene he shot yesterday was done in one long wide angle take and we only got two chances. Working with him forces me to go against my instincts. I have to give up control, just release and surrender. You know, live. Lars, of course, is a Leo. I always tap into some raw life force collaborating with him. But it doesn’t come easy. I have to force it, and it’s a little scary.

So I was grateful to Will yesterday, because he grounded me. You can’t see it, but Will’s leg is pressed up against mine under the bar in this picture. One of the things you forget when you’re single for a long time is how important physical touch is, the effect it has on your heart. Well, you don’t forget, but touch isn’t something that lives in your mind, it can’t be remembered, it has to be experienced. Touch opens us up and binds us to one another and holds us fast to the moment.

So in between takes Will flirted with me and made me laugh and not take it all so seriously. And when he slapped me on camera and I had to go to a dark place and remember something I’d rather forget you know, for art, well, it helped that when I sat back down he was worried that the slap might have landed wrong and was I ok and finally, that his leg was pressed up against mine, reminding me to be here in the nowness of now.

You know yesterday when I said I was expecting to play out my shadow side on the set? Well, I got that part right, but it was only the half of it. The way the Venus conjunct Pluto conjunct my Sun transit really played out was that while I was pretending to be in a lovesick relationship with a man who was breaking my heart, I was actually on set with a solid sweetheart of a guy who was complimentary about my utterly mental makeup job, generally just really loving with me and also very easy on the eyes, ammirite, ladies?

Capricorn and Saturn are all about restriction and constraint. Or, as Rob Hand puts it, contemplation. But Venus could care less about any of that. Venus just wants contact. Immediate, real, true blue touch. The kind that makes you forget your own name or anyone else’s. She just wants to be loved. She never visits my Sun (the ruler of my 7th house of partnership and marriage) without reminding me of that and yesterday was no exception.

I was a little raw at the end of the day, to be honest. It was hard to open up to all of that only to come home to an apartment that I’ve only shared with bed bugs as of late. (Venus in Capricorn has a sick sense of humor) I complained about it to my BFF Michael and he totally ignored the complaint and said he was glad my Venus got to come out and play at all. Fucker. What does he know? He’s got a totally hot husband in his bed NOT bed bugs. Whatever. But he’s probably right, (don’t tell him I said so!) you can’t put Venus in the corner for too long. That girl was made to DANCE.

Daily Dose of Wonder

Nadezhda Tolokonnikova

I felt such sadness this morning when I read about the Pussy Riot member who has been missing since she was transferred from her jail cell over a week ago.  Her family is frightened, suspecting that her recent hunger strike and outspoken comments against inhumane treatment in Russian prisons has brought about some new punishment.  I thought back to my post yesterday, and I wondered if she’s got even one beautiful thing to see where she is now, wherever it is, if anyone is being kind to her, even a little bit.  If there’s any grace in her life right now at all.  She’s sacrificed so much to take a stand for her countrywomen and her punishment is so severe.  I’m worried about her.  I’m grateful to her and I’m worried about her.

What can I do?  I can sign petitions, I can share her story, and I can pray.  I can pray hard.  So I thought about Nadezhda Tolokonnikova.  I thought about her many thousands of miles away in a miserable jail cell somewhere.  I thought of her dark hair and her determined eyes and her brave brave heart and her children waiting for her back at home.  I’m thinking of her now.  And I am reciting the Loving Kindness Meditation as I do so.

May you be peaceful

May you be healthy

May you be loved

May you be happy

May you be free

 

Vanity Take One

OMG you guys.  After posting yesterday I was thinking really hard about love and creating it, and it put me in mind of this video I made a few years ago.  Watching it made me laugh really hard, and feel very fondly for my tough little heart going through all the awful things I’ve put it through over the years.

I made this video three years after the very worst break-up of my entire life (and trust me, that’s saying something).  I was just beginning to remember who I was, who I was really, and it was starting to feel like that might actually be a good thing.  I was smoking quite a lot of pot at the time too, so that helped tremendously.

So today’s post is brought to you by me at 37, by way of illustrating how I began disciplining my heart to feel love for myself, no matter how silly or strange or awkward I might be (which turns out to be a fair amount as it happens).

Little Lonely Performs For You

Little Lonely at Ham & Eggs Tavern

I got some good news last night.  Remember back in May when my sister-in-law needed me to take some shots of her for her upcoming album?  Well, since then she’s released it and last night she told me it’s just been selected by Rust Magazine as Critics Choice Album of the Year for 2013!  Which is so cool – and well deserved.

I remember the first time I ever looked at Julie’s chart and she asked me if it said anything about singing in it.  It was years ago, and I’d only really just got into astrology.  I didn’t know then that Venus was good for musicians or that the Moon was ALL about writers, but believe you me, I’ll never forget it now.  Jules has her Moon AND Venus conjunct her ascendant within a few degrees.  She chose exactly the right moment to be born.

Little Lonely at Ham & Eggs Tavern

She has an awfully soulful way about her, her songs make me feel homesick and lonesome and safe all at the same time.  She can be hard to get a read on because she is always just a little bit away in her spirit, but her heart is constant and true.  I’ve never counted on anyone the way I count on her.  I guess that’s what having a sister is about, but I never had a sister before, I’ve been blessed with more best friends than anyone’s got a right to, but I never had a sister.

Little Lonely is mine.

Don’t be jealous!  You can have some of her music.  Just head over to her site where you can have a listen and find all the links to buy her new album.  The crowd favorite seems to be Buttonwillow, (just press play up above) but mine is Interstate Hum.

Let Love In

My nephew ran at me yesterday with a joyful cry of “Auntie!!!” and jumped into my arms for one of his patented silent hugs that go on so long he has to shift his head and burrow it into the other side of my neck to stay comfortable.  I could live in that hug, just rocking him back and forth.  I’m there right now, and let me tell you, you guys, it makes everything better.  Yeah, yeah, eclipse season, yeah yeah, Mercury retrograde, whatever.

Every night I text my little girl, Beth, (she’s not really a little girl, but she will always be so to me!) five things I’m grateful for, and last night, among other things, I texted her about T’s hug.  You know what she wrote back? “life IS beautiful!  It sounds as though today was one of those magical moments when the stars aligned and you were able to truly witness and take in how loved and genuinely cherished you are.”  I didn’t see it that way until she wrote it, and when I first read what she’d written I balked.  Surely T’s hugs aren’t about me, surely they’re about how great he is!

But waking up this morning and I can see she is right!  Here she was, telling me she loved me and that she was happy I was feeling loved and my first impulse was to reject what she was saying.  It’s like she handed me the best, most beautifully wrapped present with everything I’d ever wanted inside and I just waved her off, saying, “no really, I couldn’t!”  WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

Don’t do that, you guys!!  It’s every bit as important to let others love you as it is to love them. Love is not some puny, selfish, grasping thing that sucks up all the light and leaves us gasping on the sand like beached whales.  Love expands, love embraces, love includes.  There’s enough for everybody.

So let love in, my little Winter Squashes!!  I’m gonna.

Seen and Heard

photo 2Yesterday I went to the arboretum with my mum and my nephew, T.  He loved it.  That child loves being outdoors, guess he comes by that honestly.

Two minutes into the place and he’d run off under a tree and wouldn’t come out, insisting that he was “hiding,” and for me and Nana to do the same.  I wanted to keep going, there were peacocks everywhere and nowhere to sit, but Mama frowned at me and said, “what’s the hurry? let him sit under the tree for awhile.”  Obviously, she was right, it’s not like there was somewhere we were supposed to be, we were already there.  And T was in heaven, he was in the land of sticks and rocks!

T in the woodsWe played hide and seek for ages, he’s at the age where that’s pretty much his favorite game, but I don’t think I’ve played it properly outdoors since I was a child.   We told him that with his green shirt on he was pretty much invisible and veeery hard to spot.

Which was a lie, of course, he’s as easy to track as a herd of elephants, but it delighted him.  I remember playing hide and seek once when I was about five and being the last one found.  Everyone said it was because I was wearing a green pantsuit (what?!  It was the seventies!) and they couldn’t see me but now I know they couldn’t find me because I was the youngest and they wanted to give me something, they wanted to give me just a little more time before adulthood intruded, and I had to play big people games and go by the real rules that reality imposes upon us all eventually.

It’s still one of my favorite memories.  And playing with T yesterday there under the trees I realized that I was going to have to do the same for him but on a bigger scale, because the real rules to the games that big people play are shifting faster and faster and they’re stranger and harder to figure out than ever.

Here he is across from the waterfall (pictured at the top) that I insisted on trying to find, despite T’s insistence on crawling like a turtle for about fifteen minutes of our journey.  (Did you know that turtles sound suspiciously like kittens?  #themoreyouknow)

Anyway, from here on out I’m going to keep him a little more hidden.  I will still write about him but and I may put up the occasional picture of him but you probably won’t see his face anymore and I’ve scrubbed his name from the site.  I’ve got to try to keep him safe now, keep his little world little and real and honest.  His 12th house (secrets and lies) is ruled by a planet maltreated by a malefic, so he’s probably safe from hidden enemies, but his 12th house ruler is also the significator of his fathers sister, and MY 12th house is PACKED.

I don’t like secrets, I like everything out in the open.  And yes, part of me thinks this brand new world with no privacy in it might actually be the best thing to ever happen to any of us.  What if having nowhere to hide led us to genuine real authenticity out of sheer desperation?  But I’m not counting on it, and even if that does happen eventually we’ve still got a long long way to go.  And it’s my job to keep my nephew safe until he’s ready to manage these minefields for himself.

Until then I’m just going to keep telling him he’s the best hide-and-seeker I ever met and that he’s safe, and nothing bad is ever going to happen to him, and I’m just going to keep believing that it’s true.

 

The astrology of twins

I was a nanny to twins in my early twenties.  At the time most of my friends were going to college and doing all sorts of worldly and risky things.  No one was particularly interested in hearing how Alex squealed when I held onto his overall straps and made him fly “like an airplane” or how Beth made this seriously funny face where she squinted her eyes, wrinkled her nose, and whistled through her teeth and how we called that “pig-snake.”

I found it impossible to explain how completely they mesmerized me, how totally and utterly fascinated by them I was.  Now that my friends are twenty years older and have children themselves they get it.  They’ve fallen in love with their children and every little thing they do is a miracle.  I’m so glad I can have those conversations with my friends now.  It’s still my favorite conversation.

Watching someone learn to walk and talk is just about the coolest thing I’ve ever experienced.  There’s nothing else like it.  Here you’ve got this tiny little creature whose character is so pronounced that when I met Alex and Beth I knew immediately they would be the children I nannied, even though they were only five and a half months old.  I just knew them, the connection was that strong.

Of course that bond is perfectly described by our chart synastry.  The most obvious thing is the Moon connections the three of us share.  My Moon at 20 degrees Libra conjuncts Beth’s ascendant with an orb of 3 degrees and Alex’s by 7.  Then their little Moons at 11 and 12 degrees Cancer oppose my Sun at 10 degrees Capricorn.  Add to that the fact that they were born when Uranus was transiting my Sun at 11 degrees, (relative to the hard square I have with it natally).  They spark and electrify me – I feel most myself when I’m with them – and I fancy I ground them a bit when they start to feel unraveled by such a strong Uranian opposition to their sensitive Cancer Moons (except maybe when I exacerbate it – oops!).

But no matter how well I felt I knew them at our first meeting, the strangest thing about bonding with a young child is that they are, by nature, completely open books, with most of the pages unwritten as yet.  The reason people call children pure isn’t because they’re good, it’s because their souls are so undiluted by experience that who they are is just essence.  Formless, bottomless, absolute essence.

Watching someone that small begin to take shape, to take form, to create his or herself is like crack to me.  I mean, watching someone, anyone transform themselves is mind-blowingly awesome, but the thing about watching someone tiny do it is that their power is so strong and unselfconscious.  Rather than exerting great will power to transform, the way an adult must, in a child it’s reflexive, it’s necessary, it’s assumed.  They don’t even know they’re doing it, it’s just what they do.  Every day brings a new transformation and a new skill set and a new understanding and a new experience.  It’s just one long rush after another.

I’m so incredibly, unbelievably fortunate because Alex and Beth are still in my life.  This is mostly due to their totally awesome mothers who, unlike a lot of parents who hire nannies, very early on vocally and repeatedly identified me as being a part of the family and made an effort to keep in touch even after I’d left the job and the city.  Fortunately nowadays I don’t live too far from them, just a few hours south in Los Angeles, so we’ve been able to see each other over the years.

They’ve both been to stay with me, Beth in particular stayed with me almost every summer from the time she was thirteen.  I’ve watched her go through one of the worst experiences any human can endure: female adolescence.  I’ve watched her go from being an oddly calm and poised infant to being an exuberant, gawky teenager.  From being a sensitive, gentle little mite who I could calm just by picking her up and cuddling her to being a sensitive, anxious little minx capable of slamming doors three times per second.  There were ways in which I’d forgotten how horrible it was being a girl between the ages of 13 through 18 until I had to watch Beth go through it.  There is something about the biological struggle to exert one’s independence and sense of self in adolescence that is fraught with terror for girls.  The more sensitive you are the worse it gets.  And Beth is pretty sensitive.

Anyway, I know I started this piece talking about how mind-blowingly awesome it is watching infants and toddlers reflexively transform in every moment, and how relatively tame and slow it is watching adults attempt the same feat, but this post is actually about the totally opposite phenomenon.

When Beth and Alex were tiny and their futures unwritten I spent a lot of time wondering, hoping, and imagining who they’d be and what they’d do.  With everything unwritten it seems our biggest impulse is to try to write!  But nothing I’d imagined is anywhere near so good as what actually is.

Cut to almost twenty years later and Alex is taller than I am, has finished training to be a firefighter and just spent a month exploring Calcutta on his own.  He came to stay with me for a few days last year and just about broke my heart in two with his direct way of expressing affection and appreciation. I’ve been blessed to have a lot of strong, emotionally giving men in my life and it’s an honor and a privilege watching Alex join their ranks, going from boy to man.

And here is Beth over breakfast last September, telling me about her trip backpacking through Europe on her own for eleven months.  Here is this grown up adult woman with a heart the size of Texas sitting across from me and she’d just trekked the Camino de Santiago for the previous two months – the last three days of which she did with a broken foot! (Scorpio Sun conjunct Pluto = STUBBORN STUBBORN STUBBORN)  I don’t think she’s ever amazed me more.  I don’t think anyone has ever amazed me more.  Honestly, who told her she could do that?!  SHE did.

And now I want to tell all my friends with young children who will get stolen by adolescence that their children will come back tenfold.  They will come back but they will never ever ever be yours again.  And you will be so achingly, heart-breakingly glad.  If you are truly lucky, they will belong to themselves in ways you could never in your wildest dreams have imagined.  And the way they inspired you when they were small?  Well, it’s nothing compared to the way they will inspire you as adults…

Inspiration, love, and faith?  It may be ours to provide to begin with, but somehow looking back on it all now I feel like I never knew what any of that even meant before I met these two.