CONCERN FOR LOVE

When the machine age began, people often said, "What is the world coming to?" Today, we might better ask ourselves, "What are we, the people, coming to?"

There was a time when people were content with a roof over their heads and enough food to eat. A family's home might have been small, hardly big enough to squeeze in Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad and the six or eight kids, but no matter how few possessions they had, or how shabby their clothes were, the walls of that little abode shook with laughter and bulged with the immense amount of love inside.

Not anymore.

Now people must have a bigger home than their neighbors, a bigger car, all the modern conveniences and luxuries, and fancy clothes to show off in. And their love is so diluted by their possessions, that their kindness has trickled away to the point that they hardly seem to be human anymore but, instead, mean little pack rats whose tiny hearts are totally committed to keeping what belongs to them and increasing their holdings. They're not families anymore. They're property owners. And property owners make very poor parents. No matter how hard they work to keep what they have and increase their wealth, they cannot achieve happiness or their children's respect because they are no longer good parents. And as time goes on and their holdings increase, their heart's continue to shrink, and their children grow to hate them.

Now owning property is the norm. But everything is so expensive. It takes both parents working to maintain what one has and parents can't afford a big family anymore, so they must prevent pregnancy or abort; but that's all right because who wants another kid who will just hate them anyway.

There are less children now. And the children are confused and frightened, starved for real affection, and some have grown violent and been killed, imprisoned, or driven from their homes. Consequently, hate further increases while love continues to wane.

The perception of love and mode of expressing it have changed, too. Property owners aren't even comfortable with giving and receiving hugs anymore. In fact, those hugs, when given, are hardly lukewarm. And even if not consciously aware of it, the children sense something lacking in those hugs, and they resent it. And to say "I love you" and give a loved-one a hug is not rewarded by as big a smile anymore as one receives by increasing a loved-one's holdings with another purchase of property, thereby stoking the fire burning in this ever increasing hell on earth.

Now it's happening that some property owners haven't the time to say "I love you" in person. One must send the message by phone, in a letter, or in an email over the internet. But oh well, a face-to-face "I love you" would be received with little enthusiasm anyway, for the children have discovered that drugs and sex do a far better job of soothing their distress; and what's even better, unlike Mom and Dad, the drugs and sex are always there when they need them.

And it has even come about that some property owners have increased their holdings to the point where they must use a computer to keep track of everything. And somewhere amidst that long list of possessions is a file with their child's birthday in it.

"Damn, I don't have time for this. Where is it? Where is it? Ah, yes, there it is. I knew his birthday was some time in March. Oh, I'd better send him something quick. If he doesn't receive it on time he might think I don't love him."

Right. Go on, you pack rat, stoke the fire some more.

And hate has another growth spurt while love further wanes.

Now the property owners are resentful and angry. They have wasted most of their lives on a pipe-dream. They had hoped to find pride in their great accomplishments, but they only found shame. And their children - they hate them now as much as their children hate them. Because their children were right when they gave them little clues years ago, little warnings telling them that they should take more pride in their family than in their possessions. And they hate them because they're still young and have their whole futures ahead of them while their own time is nearly up. And some property owners will hate their children to such a great degree that they will try to hurt them and put obstacles in their way so that they will not further shame their parents by outperforming them.

There are even less children now, for some property owners have decided that the world is too dangerous to bring a child into, so they won't have any. And those that do have children will be worse than just poor parents. They will be breeders of trophies; and if those trophies don't shine they will discard them and either try making another one or find something else to gloat over.

Now only a spark of love remains and it is so adulterated it is hardly recognizable.

And the few children who exist wonder, "Could there really be such a thing as love? Or is it something that exists only in fairy tales?"

Love - a fragment of memory from a long-forgotten past.