It’s so simple, just ask a four-year-old.

The innocence of children, a common theme, is a misnomer. The innocence implies they had some capability to surrender it. They do not until we teach them how.

What children are is honest, uninhibited by the artificial constraints of a “polite” society. We tell them, do not lie. But when we ask them if they like the food offered, we expect them to be polite and say “yes, thank you,” and eat every morsel. Even things as abominable, unpalatable, and disgusting as Brussels sprouts (sometimes incorrectly known as Brussel Sprouts).

An honest person would recoil at the sight of these things and say “no, I do not.” But we train away their natural honesty and replace it with a false politeness.

Kids have a way of looking at life that time often erodes. And that is unfortunate.

The other day, my grandson, Levi, asked to go to a local playground, despite the temperature hovering in the low 20s and a windchill factor making it feel like Siberia.

Since I often encourage any activity that avoids the use of digital apparatus, and not to appear hypocritical, I agreed to a brief visit.

It is during these often-unplanned events that some of the most profound and deep philosophical thoughts arise from these uninhibited beings.

Placing him on the only swing not coated with ice, he began swinging away. I would push him hard to get him moving, then jam my hands back in the pocket of the outer vest, which was over an inner vest and two sweatshirts. I would silently curse the invisible force of gravity requiring me to remove my hand from the warmth of the pocket and repower the momentum.

He seemed impervious to the cold as children often are. I was not, but I was committed to my principles.

And, of course, the conversation was non-stop. His face sometimes clouded with the warm-breath mist accompanying his words.

This is a small but memorable part of that conversation.

Levi: “I remember the first time I tried a swing.”
JB: “You do?”
“Levi: “Yup, I remember all my memories.”

“I remember all my memories.”

The words stuck with me the whole rest of the day and were waiting to replay in my mind first thing this morning.

I thought, wouldn’t it be nice to retain that ability to hold fast to all your memories. It would remind us to learn from the memories of our mistakes, appreciate the memories of all those who have influenced our lives, and embrace the simple memories of a conversation with a wise four-year-old philosopher whose turn of phrase can enlighten a world.

Remember all your memories!