Who Cares? A Wish for 2026

 

 

 The unbelievable surrounds us . . . . 
The intricate weaving of scraps to make a bird nest,
The maze of tunnels in an ant kingdom,
And the thrumming beat of the hummingbird wings as it drinks from an open flower.

But perhaps the most astounding, the most miraculous, is when a human decides to stop and
Notice the lives of others,
Listen to their stories,
Step into their shoes,
And imagine their hardships.

You know those who do this.  
They are the ones who are often criticized for their bleeding hearts.
The weight they carry for others is heavy.

Horton from Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who! knows all about this.  As large as this pachyderm is, he hears the tiny sound of a voice on a speck of dust, a voice no one else hears.  Despite the cackles of the sour kangaroo and her babe, and despite the resistance of the Wickersham Brothers and the black-bottomed bird, Vlad Vlad-i-koff, he cares for the speck of dust and the people of Whoville.

In case you didn’t know, Dr. Seuss’ early work contains many racist stereotypes and contributed to American mistrust of Japanese-Americans during World War II.  However, his character Horton reveals that he, too, stopped and listened.  He, too, underwent a change of heart.  He, too, developed a willingness to hear the voices of those in Japan, to deal with the criticism of others, and to care.

It takes integrity to refuse to use our power and position, our large Horton size, to assert our desires—-but instead, use our position to protect those who may not “measure up” in our eyes.  

It takes courage to protect the powerless, the poor, those who are different from us.

It takes grace and mercy to see the humanity of others whose views and lifestyles don’t match ours.

It takes intentionality to look for those others, those citizens of Whoville, who believe their voices don’t matter, and encourage and enable them to speak.

* * * * * * * * * *

In 2026, I am hoping for a miracle—
For supervisors and bosses to listen to employees and care about their experiences,
For those in power to care about those little “specks of dust” and the people who inhabit them,
For us to look for those who need to be seen,
For us to hand a loud megaphone to those who need some help to be heard,
And for the voices of all of us in our own little Whoville to make a loud “YOPP!” 

May we, like Dr. Seuss, the sour kangaroo and babe, and the Wickersham Brothers evolve and look for specks of dust and their inhabitants.   May we listen to their stories and their voices.

May we care for every Who . . . .

Choose Your Own Adventure---Robert Frost Style

 

Choose Your Own Adventure
Robert Frost Style

A different interpretation of "The Road Not Taken" 

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood . . ."

 

Adventure Choice 1:

I took the road more traveled.
While I wasn’t sure this was the right choice, 
the road was well-worn and familiar, 
As it was the path recommended to me by all I knew.

Each fork in the road was clearly marked,
And signs along the way let me know which way to go.
Smooth.
Rest stops and markers warned me how much longer the path would go.
Well paved.
Lights marking the way in the dark.
Companions along the way who appeared to care about my journey.

Yet, each step I took I felt less and less real
But instead, just marching in step with everyone else.
I was taking a path I knew would lead to a future clearly defined,
But I didn’t know if that was a future I wanted, 
But was it too late to turn back now?

Scared to undo all my walking, I regretfully moved forward with the crowd.  


Adventure Choice 2:

I took the road less traveled.
I wasn’t sure if this was the right choice,
And every indication proved I might be right.
Branches occasionally leaned into the walkway,
Forcing me into the loose pebbles along the way.
Potholes and tree roots populated the path.

The path seemed to dead end, and only with careful inspection,
To the right, I saw a small deer track,
Where these creatures had separated the grasses, matting their stalks into the mud.
I crouched and squat-walked under the tree limbs, uncertain the route.
Leaves stuck in my hair, and spider webs brushed my cheeks.

Darkness came, and only the moon highlighted the route, 
My companions the crickets and cicadas, coyote cries, and owl songs.
Alone, I wondered why I had taken this path.
Regret filled my heart.
I twisted my ankle on an unexpected rock.
Looking desperately around for a stick,
I hobbled forward, one painful step at a time.

It was true that on this path I was gloriously free to go my own way, 
that the lack of human companions allowed me to hear the wind dancing in the leaves,
but did I even know where the path was as it often was hidden?
Did I make the right choice?  It could make all the difference.



Adventure Choice 3:

I didn’t know which path to take.  
I sat with such indecision and fear that I would make the wrong choice
That, instead, I went back home and turned on Netflix.

Adventure Choice 4:

I didn’t know which path to take.
I was filled with indecision and fear.
I re-read Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.”  

I read the words in the last stanza:

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I realized that no matter what road I took,
I might tell this with a sigh, with perhaps wonder about the other road.
Each choice may make all the difference—
Not because one was right and one was wrong, 
But because either path would make a difference in me,
Would alter who I was,
Would change the view of the world I had.

Regardless of the choice, I couldn’t see the future.
I couldn’t predict the difference it would make.
I could only do the best I could in this situation
And being confident in myself and my own ability to learn on any road,
I picked one—without guilt, fear, or concern that I was doing the wrong thing.
No regrets.  No second-guessing.
A decision to enjoy the present.

I skipped down the path, enjoying the yellow wood, 
Winding along,  
Following the moonbeams and stars when my path was unclear.

And that realization has made all the difference.