There are so many possible things to enjoy in life. There are beautiful homes, fast cars, pleasure trips, nice clothes. The list goes on and on. And all of these things give ups pleasure, don’t they? But the pleasure they give is fleeting. Soon you want a bigger/better/fancier home, or car or trip. It is never quite enough in the end.

But the best, most enduring pleasures are the simple things. Some of these things may even be thought of as mundane. The sweet smell of the earth after a summer rain, the feel of sand between your toes at the beach, the sound of birds singing early in the morning are treasures of this earth. Do treasure them.

The sweetest pleasures that I have experienced have been found in the company of other human being. Holding a sleeping baby, for instance, is such a lovely feeling, especially if the infant is your own. Memories of spending time with loved ones, especially those we don’t see as often as we would like, stand out in my mind. And nothing compares to the intimacy of looking into the eyes of your soulmate.

And, think about it, the simple pleasures are complete in and of themselves. When you walk on the sand, you don’t yearn for more sand. You don’t wish more birds could sing in the morning. You only wish for more of the same: more time to hold your baby, or to gaze into the soul of the one you love. These pleasures are complete in and of themselves.

When I am old and memories are about all that I have, I will remember and treasure these things, these simple pleasures open to all of us, regardless of how rich or poor we think we all are. We all have access to the simple pleasures of life.

Do you ever feel like you need to get away from it all? Escape the pressures of daily life? Leave it all behind you? I feel that way. And I’ve found an escape. I escape into the world of books.

When I read a book, I am transported into a different world. I visit places I have never seen, from California to New York, from London to Paris. And, wherever I go, I am surrounded by interesting people, or, at the very least, by people who have interesting things going on in their lives. And I get a front seat. I am privy to not only events, but also to the private thoughts of the people involved.

Why don’t I watch a movie, you say? Because with a book, I can let my imagination take me wherever it will go. I am not constricted by the director’s imagination, nor by the limits of technology in the movie industry. The setting can look however I wish to imagine it! Oh, how many times I have strained at the movie screen, trying to see that monster or bad guy, only to encounter darkness. In a book, I can see it completely! I can fill in the gaps and know what danger the hero/heroine faces.

I have often thought how wonderful it would be to have a hotel room and $1500 expense account for a week. I could lounge around and make as many trips to Barnes and Nobles as I needed to replenish my supply. I could get away to so many wonderful places!

So, the next time you need a vacation, consider your library as a place to pick up your ticket to another destination.

My Master, as a writer, keeps a notebook with him. Whenever a possible writing topic comes along, he writes it down. When he needs to write a column, he checks his little notebook for ideas.

Well, today I started to do the same. Master and I have discussed the quality of my writing. Some things are written in a hurry, like a kid who just writes something down so he can turn in an assignment. Master would like something better. Explore the idea completely, he says.

Sometimes I pound out a couple of paragraphs quickly and post it. This sometimes happens because I am in a hurry. But often it happens because I don’t know what to write about. When I finally come up with something, I am pressed for time (or feel like I am) and want to get it posted. So, I quickly put something together and call it good. But, as Master would say, it ain’t good enough.

So, to help with that problem, anyway, I have started a notebook like my Master. I was sitting and relaxing, I kept a notebook close by. When I thought of a writing topic, I jotted it down. Now, I am going to try to write about those things. I wrote four topics down today. I am going to see how many of those I can write about before I go to bed tonight. Maybe I will have four complete posts. Maybe not. But at least I will have worked on it. And I will try to milk each of these ideas for all they are worth. Or at least as much as I can squeeze out of them tonight.

So, like my Master, I have started my own little notebook. I hope it will give as much writing fodder for me as it does for him.

My immediate family is a blue collar, working class family. My father never finished high school. My mother finished a vocational program, and my brothers took classes at a community college. I am the only one with a college degree. On my mother’s side, there is a smattering of college graduates, along with those who have gone to vocational school and those who finished high school and were glad to be done. As far as I know, no one else on my father’s side has graduated from college. Many did not finish high school.

We are not great travelers; most of the traveling done my family has done has involved the military, although I took a trip to Mexico while in college. For the most part, we have lived in and around Iowa all our lives. For us, a trip to New York would be like going to a different world.

We aren’t fancy people. We don’t get dressed up except for weddings and funerals. Family gatherings are a pot luck at someone’s house.

This is where I come from. I love my family and am proud of my background. We’re good people.

Now enter Master Bennet. He comes from a family of professionals. They live in high rise apartments. (Do we even have those in Iowa??) He comes from a very different world. And this summer they meet. I am sure my family will be accepting and welcoming. And, as Master says, he has good manners. Nevertheless, Master will see that the world I grew up in is very different from his.

Two different worlds. And I love the products of both of them.

Unless you have been hiding under a rock (in which case, what are you doing reading this blog?) you have heard about the raid on the polygamist ranch on April 3. More than 400 children were removed on the ground that they were in danger of being abused. The abuse stems from the fact that the group believes in one man marrying several women, and marrying them while they are quite young, as young as 13.

I don’t think this is really news. These practices have been common knowledge. I know I had heard of them before. If you hadn’t, the trial of Warren Jeffs would had enlightened you. He is the leader of the sect who was convicted of sex charges stemming from a marriage he arranged between a 14 year old girl and her 19 year old cousin.

The raid on the ranch was the result of calls from a 16 year old girl claiming to have been spiritually married to a man nearly three times her age. She said he forced her to have sex and that he beat her while her sister wives held her baby. She also claimed she was pregnant again.

Well, now it looks like the phone calls may well have been a hoax. They seemed to have been traced to a woman in Colorado who has a history of making fake calls.

Think of all of the lives that have been torn apart by this! Over 400 children have been removed from the ranch. Their relatives left behind must be going crazy. And the children themselves are being thrust into an unfamiliar and frightening world. Unfortunately, now that the process has begun, it seems impossible to simply return the children and admit a mistake was made.

So, who pays for this terrible tragedy? Were the authorities wrong to raid the ranch? No, I don’t believe they were. According to the information they had, there was every reason to believe a frightened young girl needed their help. Why should they think a nutcase was making the calls.

I do hope they prosecute this individual to the fullest extent of the law. But, how much can they do? Can justice ever be done to the children and their families? I don’t think so. In the end, they are the victims. They are the ones who pay for this travesty.