Kinda Like a Hippie

It's a lot like childbirth

I love an adventure. 

When I first thought of sending a hike entry e-mail to Tom Ryan of Following Atticus fame, I thought it would be a fun thing to do. Wouldn't it be great to go to New Hampshire in the fall and meet an author whose work I like? Kind of like a long, giant book signing. I thought it would be a pretty impersonal thing. Show up with a bunch of other people on the day of the hike, walk in the woods, tell him how much you like the book, see Atticus, all done. 

Not much of an adventure, more of an event. Not much risk.

Hello naivete.

Then Tom made it personal. As I mentioned before, he called me out on his fan page. Um, wow, okay, he knows who I am, kind of, maybe, in a way. And I can still enter. This is a good thing! And suddenly he was so much more real. Because he spoke to ME! While I knew other people were being chosen too it didn't occur to me to think about them much that first day or two. I was all about booking my stay for a day early and a couple of days after so I could explore the area in my rental car.

Hello oblivious.

Then, something happened.  It became more: More personal. More challenging. More nerve wracking. More physical. More exciting. More stressful. More uncertain.

Hello adventure.

To me, one of the best things about an adventure is you never know how it will be exactly. You don't really know what you will accomplish or gain, not entirely. If you know every step of the journey it's not an adventure!

At the beginning, I thought I was going to take a hike with a guy who writes books, and his dog, accompanied by some other people. End of story pretty much. Oh, I mean it would be awesome being in the White Mountains. I love nature and being out doors. *** Side tangent: When I was Worthy Advisor of my Rainbow Girls group (it's a Masonic affiliated organization for girls and Worthy Advsior is kind of like being President, but you have to work harder to get there) the theme for my term was "Nature is the Art of God." I recycle. I've been called a tree hugger since way before that was cool. Once I even had a subscription to a magazine called Outdoor. And I've even gone for mild hikes in lots of places too (up a couple of big hills in Nigeria and Bulgaria) just to be outdoors wherever I was.***

Somewhere, after a bit, I realized I better walk more if I was going to do this hike. I've not been quite the same physically since the neccesary thyroid nuking. So, bonus! Motivation to do something I've been meaning to do. I did start walking more. 

And along the way we, the other hikers chosen and I, began to get to know each other. We had a private facebook page, we posted pictures, we messaged and made plans, we texted and even talked on the phone some. We started liking each other. The group dynamics were good. We bonded. It's awesome how fun something can be when you get the right group of people together. We have to thank Tom for that! When they are positive, upbeat people it's amazing the things they can overcome and accomplish. Having a common goal from the beginning is a definite plus. Tom provided that too. 

Still, it was more. And here's where it gets tricky, it was more. Somehow, it was just, more. Maybe because we are more. More than we realize. More than we knew. Maybe even more than we wanted to be. But, more.

This was not just a hike anymore. In fact, for me, it wasn't about the actual hike much at all by the time I arrived in Jackson, NH. That was a beautiful part, but only a part. It was about the people. That is what I became truly grateful for. They are where my deepest gratitude lies. My heart is fuller, my soul is enriched and my mind is captivated by these friends. They are my adventure now. At the end of my life, when I am saying goodbye to this world in whatever way I am allowed, I know it will not be a mountain or a tree that will be holding my hand, or that my thoughts will turn to. 

I need to remember that fact when I am frustrated with people, or hurt by them. I need to remember that for every one that causes me pain there are so many more that lift me up. I knew that from past experience, but I needed to remember. I need to remember that I know that most often the hero of the journey is the one I find inside myself.

I am hopeful that I will see more of everyone I met on this journey. I hope that whatever invisible threads that bind us to each other hold tight and bring us back together (let's get serious about that reunion hike). Even if I never see any of them again though, my life is better because I have been in their presence.

And the title? How is this experience like childbirth?

Well...

You think you know what's going to happen, but you really don't.

Even though someone is holding your hand,  and urging you on, it's still painful.

You think you're prepared, but you're really not.

The beautiful part is so much better than you imagined.

Things happened that you had no control over.

Emotions ran high.

When it was over the feeling of euphoria is awesome.

The crappy, and painful parts fade away leaving only the good parts to be remembered.

You'd do it again, despite the pain. 

 

 

Hiking Practice

Today I put on my new purple boots, my special wool hiking socks (that for some reason I purchased on sale somewhere last winter, before I even had an inkling of going on a hike, which were still in the package in my closet until a few weeks ago when I got them out in preparation for this whole hiking thing), my recently arrived hiking pants (ordered in a long length for my freakish legs), slung on a backpack (carrying two bottles of water, my camera and a few extra things to simulate my actual hike stuff) and maneuvered my family into "support mom in her endeavors" mode.

The boy child was eager, husband was surprisingly willing, daughter grumbled as is her custom with new things, and we proceeded to the local "Wilderness Area". Really, that's what it's called. No sarcastic quotations there. It's about ten miles down a side road as you go out of town, whereupon we paid $6 a person to enter the wilderness. So much for my selling point that hiking could be a family acitvity that wouldn't cost anything. But, hey, we are not complaining! We are like professional hikers. Look at us, going on a course you have to pay for! This is no backyard hike we are on, this is the real deal! We got maps and everything. (You know, I came out here a few times when the boy was little and I don't remember this part.)

Coincidentally, and interestingly, as soon as we parked and got out of the truck we saw another hiker; it was the girl who sold me my cool boots at REI. We got to talk to her for a bit and saw her again at the end too. Already we have met new nice people.

It was a nice cool morning here today. Too bad it was almost 2:00 when we hit the trail! Still seemed coolish when we started though. However, 85 degrees starts to feel pretty warm pretty fast when you are going uphill!

My new boots are great! My long pants that roll up are comfortable. Even my new sports bra was not annoying. What wasn't great was that my body is at least ten years older and 15 pounds heavier than the last time I hiked these hills. What wasn't comfortable was how much harder it was for me now. And what was really annoying was that even though I have been walking and even though my heart and head wanted it to be a breeze, it wasn't. It was hard. And as we climbed, even a little bit, my heart pounded and I was breathing hard. And I got mad. Every time I had to stop and catch my breath or sit for a minute under a tree I got madder. I got mad at my body for not being what it once was. I got mad because my thyroid is gone (even though when it was here it plotted against me by growing twice its size and playing see how many body functions I can mess up). They tell me the replacement pill is the same and your body doesn't know the difference. But, kids, I'm not buying that! And I got mad, because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hike well with others on the Gratitude Hike, less than two weeks away. 

I got frustrated. So there I am, mad and frustrated walking up a hill with my happy family. They are having a great time. The daughter is walking and skipping and talking, ponytail bouncing, and having a grand time- no grumbling at all once she gets going. And I'm trying so hard to have a good time. Because I am seriously happy here! I'm happy, yet I'm annoyed and i'm even more annoyed that I am not just happy. It's a pretty day, my family is all outside doing something together. I'm right where I wanted to be. What could be better? I'll tell you what! Me not being a giant heart pounding, mouth breathing, slow moving old mom thing, that's what! Not feeling the gratitude here so much, now are we?

But you know what? Life is not all lalala, everything is nice, I'm so happy to be alive, it's a wonderful world, every minute of every day. At least it isn't for anyone I know. So it was not too pleasant being me in my body for a while today. But I kept going. And you know what? It got freaking steeper! Oh yeah. And I had to sit and rest. I told my husband and kids to go on (and they did, but not far) and I found a shady spot and I sat there being mad and then very sad. I cried. I put my arms on my knees and my head down, and I cried. I cried because I couldn't do what I wanted to do easily. I cried for the times I did it with my son in years past (and probably carried him part of the way too). I cried because I just felt like crying. My husband and kids left me alone. I could hear them just up the hill. I don't know if they saw me crying or not, I didn't want them to, yet I still cried. Then I stopped. Luckily I packed some tissues in my backpack. I dried my eyes, blew my nose and got up. I kept going. It's what I do. Oh, don't go thinking I'm some great, positive energy guru who always knows how to take the next step, or that I am so sure of myself that I know I will always make it. It's only in retrospect and years of looking back, forward, and inward that I know this about me. It's so much easier to see it looking back than in the moment though.

My day? My day was a great day. And going down was so much fun!

Seventh Grade Me

(This was originally posted on Sept.12, 2006. It was the first post when I started this blog. Since I have recently resurrected this thing, I thought I'd repost it. When I started the blog I wasn't sure what to write, so I picked a story that my 7th grade students always liked. Yes, it's true.)

When I was in seventh grade I fell off the bus.

It was a school bus. A city bus would have been less embarrassing. This bus had my brother and all his 9th grade friends on it, as well as everyone from our neighborhood.

It wasn't moving, but how I wished at the time it could have just run over me.

It wasn't really my fault, exactly. I was the victim of a fashion faux pas. Well, actually at the time I was quite stylish, so maybe it was more a fashion mishap due to inexperience than a faux pas.

I must mention here that I was terribly skinny. Not anorexic, no one had even heard of that when I was in seventh grade, just really skinny. And flat chested with long straight, blond hair. A vision of loveliness!

To really appreciate this it helps if you were born in the '60's and came of age in the '70's, but if not, try to imagine.....

There I am in my oh so attractive Pallazzo pants. God, I have no idea how to spell that, but they were stylish!  Knit fabric with white sailboats on a light blue background, and even had white buttons running all the way down one of the extremely wide legs. There were buttonholes on the other leg, making them the ever versatile addition to the Jr. High wardrobe. If you were so moved you could button up and have a sort of culottes look, in maxi length! I'm sure that I was wearing an equally stylish and attractive top, probably something in a tunic style, but I have no memory of that since it did not play into the unfortunate tumbling episode. The pants though, oh the pants are deeply and forever etched into my memory.

I paired this lovely ensem with my favorite pair of shoes. Not merely shoes... brown suede, lace up go-go boots. 3 inch heels with hooks for the laces all the way up. Totally groovy. The mom probably shelled out big bucks for those babies, but since I was like her living Barbie doll she was probably okay with that. I would have preferred the white, crinkly patent leather go-go boots with the elastic at the top that all the popular girls had, but unfortunately did not have the calves to support those. At their most elasticized my leg still had wide space around it and they would hang there not touching my leg at all and not  living up to their stretchy white beauty. But, the brown suede lace up boots could be laced up so tight that if I kept moving or wore pants (see pallazzo) most people couldn't tell there was still excess space for more flesh.

It was still early fall in Oklahoma. I was riding the bus home from school. The bus pulled over to the gravel area at my stop. I have no idea why there was a gravel patch there. It was the freaking suburbs! There was regular concrete and grass everywhere else except in front of these two houses at the end of the street where it kind of made a u-turn onto our cul-de-sac. Must have been a holdover from when the burbs were still almost country.

Got the picture... big yellow bus full of vicious jr.high kids, skinny shy girl wearing still newish fashionable clothing, pretty, bright fall afternoon, gravel landing pad, tall steep bus steps, wide legged pants, and.... 3 inch heeled brown suede, lace up go-go boots.

Yep, the heel of my brown suede go-go boots caught in the hem of my blue knit Pallazzo pants and I fell completely out of the bus from the top step onto the gravel. Splayed out for all the bus to view.

I can still hear the laughter. I managed to drag myself up and run home to my mom with gravel still in my knee. I swear.  About 30 minutes later my brother showed up. That's about how long it took him to walk the block home with the swagger and saunter he was perfecting in 9th grade.

I remember lying on my mom's bedroom floor crying when he walked in and said, "Well, Mom, I guess you're gonna have to buy her new toothpicks." Referring to my legs, of course.

I never rode the bus again.

It's not about the summit.

“My favorite thing is to go where I've never been.” 
― Diane Arbus

Remember two blog posts ago where I talk about how euphoric (no, I do not think that is too strong a word) I was about getting to go on the Gratitude Hike?

And I was! I was all, "LALALALALA, I got chosen. I am so awesome! I am like the coolest person on the planet. Yea me! Go me!" In my head. I didn't actually go around saying that. I am actually cooler than that.

And then my head would go, "Hello, are you sure this is real? He could change his mind."  And, "My gosh, there were a lot of people who wanted to go on this and they are probably a lot nicer than me and now they will feel bad and do I really deserve this I don't act like much of a fan and I never sent a card or money or anything." 

But then the happy part would take over again and do the brain dance, "I get to go to New Hampshire. I get to see leaves. I'm going to see Atticus and pet Will and talk to smart people. Go me! I'm a rock star! Shoobydoobybangbang, this is awesome!"

Apparently, the happy part would never make it in a dance contest because soon the insecure part cut in. As soon as Tom started asking people to introduce themselves and what they did for a living and what hobbies they had I became the queen of cloudy thoughts. "These people are so much better and smarter than I am. They have careers. I'm a teacher who quit teaching. They scuba dive, and sky dive and ride bikes. AND HIKE! I'm out of shape and I spend my time driving a pick up truck around. They do charity work and have deep thoughts. I am a nothing."

But we have a private facebook page formed for the purpose of getting information about the hike to us and for getting to know each other before we meet up in person, and they seemed like such nice superiors. They have really cute kids and dogs too. I started to warm up to them and the thought of hanging out with them. Me and all my shortcomings would just soak up some of their grandeur.

You know, after a while, they seemed not so intimidating. They started to seem like potential friends and team mates. I decided this would be okay. I was walking and I was buying the right stuff, or trying to and I could make this work. We were all in this together after all.

Until...

A discussion ensued about some members being afraid they might not make it to the top, or being afraid of heights, or having bad knees, etc.  Lots of encouragement was offered. Assurances of a helping hand were given. Then someone said "We are not going to leave anyone behind. We will make sure everyone makes it to the summit." (Okay, maybe not an exact quote, but you really need the quotation marks for this to be effective.)

Well, crap, now the pressure is really on. What if I'm the one who can't make it? That will be even more embarrassing now. Until then I thought I'd give it my all but if I faded out it would be okay and maybe no one would notice.

You see, I'm not much of a team player. My pursuits are more solitary. I never cared that there was no I in Team. In fact I was happy about that. There is an I in Individual and also Imagination and Intriguing. But I do like people, and when I am a part of something I don't want to be the one causing it to fall apart. I need to get my new team mates to see that getting to the top of a mountain, or not getting there is not the main point for me. If I do, that will be fantastic and I will bask in the accomplishment and live with the glory! If I don't make it to the summit I will see beautiful sights, breath the air of New Hampshire's White mountains, walk along trails I've never walked and may never again, hug trees that need to know I care and sit and stare at vistas I've longed for. There's no losing in this for me. I'm a winner already. I've gained so much before it even begins (not to mention a new pair of groovy purple hiking boots). There is so much more to come, both on and off the mountain. I am content, whether I literally make it to the highest point of a mountain, or if I let my soul and mind experience this event without fear and trepidation.

Now I just have to find a way to tell them.

Thank  you modern technology!

addendum: I was thinking of adding this quote  here with a cute little graphic--- "Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among stars!" – Les Brown  In searching for the author and a pic I found this site, and it is so much better! Reality check! The cynic in me loved this. (warning- curse words)

 http://www.collegehumor.com/article/5233204/five-quotes-people-should-really-stop-using

 

 

Here's where you find out who I really am. A woman I never wanted to be.*

Dear Will,

Mom here. Have I told you lately how much I miss you? I really do. But I guess I've said that a few thousand times before. 

Tomorrow is your birthday. 16 years ago at this time I was pretty much awestruck by how much labor pains really hurt! I mean, I've had doctors tell me I have a high pain tolerance, but getting you out blew that all to hell. Don't get me wrong, you were worth it and all, but that is some serious ouching! Still one of the best and happiest days of my life though. Will, you made me a mom. You came as a surprise, and you changed my life, and became my whole life. I wonder if you can remember it now, since you are in the be all and know all place. At least I like to believe that. I wish I really really knew what to believe. If you have a way to help me out with this it would be greatly appreciated. I wish I could see things face to face and give up all this through a glass, darkly, stuff.

It's weird, you know, you were my baby boy but not quite still a baby and already my best friend, so you'll always be a baby, yet often when I think of you I think of the teenage Will you would have been. The eleven and a half months I had with you were the happiest and calmest and most at peace I have ever been. I'm still happy a lot, although it did take a while to get there, and I'm even calm sometimes! But there is a piece of my inner peace that is gone. That is not your fault though! Ironic since you were such an easy, peaceful kid and gave it to me.

And I hurt. There's no denying that. Mostly for me, but also for you and for Seva, my boy who has always wanted a brother. 

Here's a funny story. Once when Seva was about 3 or 4, getting into the the truck leaving a friend's house he found a picture of you in the console. It was one he hadn't seen before. He asked who it was and I told him it was you. He said, "Can we go visit Will?"  I had to say, "No, Will is in Heaven, we can't go there." As we drove away he continued the conversation.

"Mom, where's heaven is? Up in the 'ky?"

"I don't know, maybe up past the sky, maybe somewhere else, maybe just a state of being."

"Mom, what will we do there? Will it be fun?"

"I don't know Buddy. What is this? Hard question weekend?"

"Mom, when you put me in heaven, will you get a new baby?" At this point I almost drove off the road! And I think I was hyperventilating. 

"Oh Seva, I didn't put Will in heaven. If he can't be with us I'm glad he's there, but you are not going there for a very long time. I will go there before you."

"Mom, where's Will's daddy?"  Dang, just when I thought the questions couldn't get any harder. I was thinking, "How am I going to explain all this?" Then suddenly it came to me. Tell the truth.

"Will's daddy is in Arizona."  End of questions. I think we went for ice cream.

Okay, maybe not funny haha, but cute don't you think? You guys would be such good buds.When he was little he used to tell me to go get you, that he would be a good brother and let you play with all his toys. He didn't realize that many of them were once yours! Just today Seva and I were in the car again, talking about your birthday. He said, "It would be cool if he were here. We could be like twins." You know you are only 10 weeks older than he is. And then we discussed whose hair would probably be blonder and if you would be taller than he is. You're still a part of our family here. I've heard it said you can't miss what you don't know, but I think that's wrong. I think Seva misses you too.

Happy birthday precious. I used to be afraid you would think that was your name I called you that so much. That would be worse than a boy named Sue, wouldn't it? I love you so much, and that never dies. Thanks for being with me, even for a little while. And thanks for teaching me to be a mom, or "Ah-na" as you called me. Do you remember we listened to country music and danced around the house? I sure do. To quote a Garth Brooks song. "I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance." 

It was a great dance.

 

FYI- Bacterial meningitis can kill a healthy toddler in less than 3 days.

*Nobody wants to be someone who has lost a child, but I especially hate being "that woman whose baby died." I don't want to never talk about Will either though. It's a dilemma.

 

Thankful it's not dodgeball.

I'm going on a hike. 

Apologies to everyone who might have ever thought, "I wish she'd take a hike", this is not your just reward! I'm going on a Gratitude Hike. A hike that is sure to be a wonderful experience on many levels. Already I've been motivated to walk more, and I think the rewards intellectually and spiritually will be too many to count. I'm already becoming friends with, and enjoying the companionship of, people I've yet to meet in person. 

The hike is a product of the way one man thinks. Tom Ryan, the author of Following Atticus, decided to thank his fans and supporters by inviting a limited number to his beloved White Mountains of New Hampshire. Once there, we will gather together and embark on a day hike with Tom and his friend Atticus (who happens to be a wise old soul residing in the body of a small Schnauzer). This is a break from their normal preference of hiking alone and at times they know the trails will not be crowded - like in winter- at night. Shiver! Let me say now (and perhaps I should add, emphatically), I'm glad that's not the hike I'll be on! 

Our hike is taking place October 5th, in the height of fall foliage season. Yes, it might be a little cooler than I am accustomed to, having lived in south Texas, lo, these 20 something years. Long underwear is ready to go! To say I'm giddy with excitement seems a silly understatement. I love having something to look forward to, especially a trip. And this trip... this has so many facets to it that it is hard to stop thinking about the things to look forward to long enough to have other thoughts! 

When Tom Ryan posted on the Following Atticus Face Book page about selecting people to go hiking with him and Atticus it was to thank everyone for showing them love and support on facebook, on his blog and in person. That sounds pretty nice doesn't it? A man, full of gratitude, doing something nice. And he dubbed it the Gratitude Hike. I was in Ruidoso, NM when I saw the post. I thought, "Wow, I'd love to do that. Wonder if I could work it out with the kids schedules and everything?" I intended to watch and see what details would be posted about how to enter to be considered. But, I was in the mountains, with my kids and dogs, in a place I love and where I have friends. We had things to do. So I didn't follow closely enough. I missed the post. A few days went by and I drove the ten hours home with two kids and one three legged dog and one old blind dog. Lying in bed that night I saw that a couple of names had already been announced and I was dissappointed. I admit to thinking, "I wish I could have been chosen." But I didn't even get a chance to enter. And it was a pie in the sky kind of disappointment anyway. Like... "Man, I wish Richard Gere would have asked me out when I was single." So, just like I don't mourn daily that Richard has yet to call, I pretty much accepted that I would live with my loss and kept reading the posts I'd missed. Tom had written a funny one that made me chuckle and I commented on it. And then... what to my wondering eyes should appear? (Yeah, I steal good lines. I'm lazy like that.) A new comment from Tom, with my name in it! He said they had received some e-mail entries and he was hoping that I had entered. Oh-em-gee! He was talking to me personally! Well, on facebook, but still, I was being addressed. When I said I had intended to and asked if it was too late to enter he told me no. They were still selecting. My fingers could not type fast enough getting that e-mail out! And as we all now know, I was selected to join the group. Me! I was chosen. Someone saw me. I honestly woke up one morning and had to tell myself it was not a dream. 

I felt oddly confident. It seemed I had somehow stood out from the crowd, but in a good way. I was not the last one chosen for dodgeball this time!

The gratitude I have felt since finding out I get to participate in this has been a part of every day. I know my fellow hikers have all mentioned how thankful they are to be a part of it as well. It truly is a well named Gratitude Hike. And, as with most generous and amazing things, it grows and flows with blurred edges until it becomes a circle of giving and receiving that spreads out but never truly goes away.  

 

You know, often time just slips away. One minute you're all blogging away and the next you lose your train of thought and suddenly years have gone by. What? That's never happened to you. Oh, um, me neither. Aliens came and abducted all my other blog posts.

Saying Good-bye to 10

Feeling bittersweet tonight. Tomorrow the Hippiekid will officially turn 11 years old. That means he's really already completed 11 years. That just dawned on me, now I feel worse. Like somehow I missed a year. But, for our purposes we are going with the number 10. The number he has said all year when someone asked how old he is. Well, until a few months ago when he started saying 10 and 3 quarters.

10 has been a good year for HK, a year full of exciting things and changes. And me, well, I've loved watching 10 so much that I've decided if I can come back as anything I am going to choose to be a 10 year old boy. He just looks like he is having so much fun. His mind is so quick and funny and we have finally moved on to jokes and humor beyond just burps and poo. He is so capable of so many things yet still a kid too. He doesn't have to be a big boy/man all the time. The creative things and games he and his friends come up with are amazing. I wish I could have captured hundreds of hours of this year on film and played it all over and over again. Sadly, I have mere minutes on grainy video from my point and shoot camera. How I wish I could make it all last longer. But, how I love knowing that he is ready and capable of moving on and growing up. That is what is supposed to happen and it is happening well.

 

   

 

Postscript to Daschevici Aliona (Aliona Daschevici) in Moldova or Ukraine (or anywhere): Thank you. Thank you. He is amazing. Read this - it is for you.

He won! He Won! He won!

I'm doin' the happy dance! No matter what happens now, it is history in the making. I am glad it is happening in my lifetime. No matter what happens now, it will be interesting-- and probably exciting.

Making things true-- another reason to vote for Obama

Or another reason to be glad if he wins.

When I was a kid my parents told me I could be anything I wanted to be. I guess parents all over the United States tell their kids that. The Hippiekid says he wants to be an architect and I tell him that is well within his reach. All he has to do is study hard, make good grades and work to his potential. I can't wait to have him design a house for me. And I know he can be anything he wants. Well, except President, since he was not born in the U.S.

I wonder how hard it has been for African American parents over the years to encourage their kids?  How hard has it been to say these words?  "You can be anything you want." I'm sure they did say it, with hope in their hearts that it was true. Yet, if you never see an example of it, you won't believe it. Children won't believe it, not deep in their hearts.

Barack Obama makes those words true. And yes, our country is right there helping him. Finally we have the chance to make those words true.

How can it be anything but good if another young black boy, or hundreds of them, or girls, feel that they can be President of the United States? This is a great thing. This is something that has the potential to change the makeup of our country. This can change attitudes and bring people together.

If young black men feel that they can achieve greatness and be recognized for that, how empowering could that be? How much more likely to stay in school and get an education and stay away from crime? If you know, and have a concrete example, that your aspirations can be reached, how encouraging might that be? 

I am hopeful. I am proud. I can imagine a generation of children growing up with hope in their hearts and confidence in their abilities.