Everybody’s Somebody’s Baby

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Each of us started as somebody’s baby.  I’m not so naive as to think that every one of us was totally wanted, cooed over, encouraged and taken good care of — but sometimes when I drive down the street, I like to look at the different people and think of each one as having once been someone’s baby.  I picture them as infants, warming the world with their smiles.  It’s a useful tool for me when a person acts mean or crabby.  “You were once someone’s baby, like a bright and shiny penny,” I try and tell myself.  It makes it easier for me to tolerate and to forgive thoughtlessness. And it’s especially helpful for me to look kindly when I pass a homeless person holding a cardboard sign, a drug addict or even someone who has committed a serious crime.  You were someone’s baby.  You were once somebody’s sweet baby.

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