My Cardboard Balcony

The Tailor's Wife Had Measles by Belinda Roddie The tailor's wife had measles while he worked feverishly on the earl's new but long coat. The earl was rather diminutive, so he did not like it when his tails dragged across the pavement as he walked. So as his poor wife stayed in bed, a rash across her perspiring face, the tailor cut, trimmed, and hemmed all night, sewing up the new ends of the fine coat. He did not come up to the bedroom with a pot of tea, nor sing a crooner's tune to comfort his wife so ill. But then he found the earl sitting next to the poor girl next morning. "Why?" he cried. "She needed attention!" the earl replied.

Here's to hoping, really. Hoping that the country will get back on its feet. Hoping that some of its leaders will learn that compassion is stronger than determination and stubbornness. Hoping that a discount beer goes a long way to help those crumpled like paper under a pretty fragile system of governing. Really, hope is the only thing we can cling to. With hope, we can progress individually. Even if we have to leave the limping politicians by the side of the road.