Why a plate of brownies can say ‘Hello, neighbour’

The most trying of times, Will come to an end, Sunnier skies lie ahead, You may depend. Keeping hopeful of heart, Friends and family to share, All play a part, To help us get there.

Susan and I were talking about a neighbour who died.

“I remembered a few weeks ago,” she continued, “when things were difficult all round she made up small parcels with brownies and little packs of tea and coffee, then left them on people’s doorsteps and window ledges. No one knew who did it. Trying to guess caused plenty of laughs. But I never got around to saying hello.”

“It’s often the case,” I agreed. “But a spirit like that shouldn’t leave the world unappreciated.” We both agreed our neighbour hadn’t been unappreciated, but she might have been more appreciated by us.

When Susan turned for home, I asked what she was going to do.

“I’m going to bake brownies,” she said. “The impact some people make on the world shouldn’t end just because they can’t carry it on.”

Let’s appreciate our neighbours.

It was homelearning, 21st Century style. Four-year-old Evie was sitting at the computer desk.

She would think of a word she wanted to type, and ask Alexa how it was spelled. The smart device would spell out “sheep”, “cat”, “duck”, and so on. Then Evie would type them into a document.

When it came to the word “cow”, Alexa spelled it and Evie typed in “c”, “o”, and… When she couldn’t find the “w” button on the keyboard she didn’t turn to her randma who was standing behind her, she didn’t get upset, she didn’t give up. She kept searching and, while she was looking, she sang a little song. “W-w-w-w-where, oh where, is double-u…”

Children these days are learning computer skills that will take them a long way, but the ability to turn a problem into a song to sing while not giving up? I think that will take little Evie even further.

In his eight months Aiden has learned a lot, but his exploration of the world has only just begun.

He has a play mat at his grandparents’ house, with cartoon characters on the upside. It’s where he spends most of his time, rolling about, playing with toys and, lately, sitting up.

This week, he discovered the mat has two sides. If he grips the edge and lifts it, he can see the white underside, something he never knew existed. And if he slaps it, it makes a drum noise.

“It was the happiest I’ve seen him yet,” Grandpa told me.

“Like he had discovered treasure. It seemed like a lesson, but I wasn’t sure which one. Was it ‘there’s two sides to everything’ or ‘there’s always more to a thing, or a person, than first appears’?”

Two good lessons. Hopefully, one day, Grandpa will teach them to Aiden, as Aiden once taught them to Grandpa.

John took it very seriously when his sons decided to stop talking to each other.

The youngest was at school and living at home, the eldest was working and living hundred of miles away, but they had fallen out over something one of them had done in an online video game.

Their mum assumed they would talk again in their own time but John decided to stage an intervention. He set up a video conference call and made sure the boys spoke, apologised – and laughed together.

Why? Because his mum and aunt had fallen out over something that was soon forgotten but stubbornness kept them from speaking for 20 years!

“They had a couple of good years of being friends afterwards,” he told me. “But all that wasted time still haunts me.”

Whatever we do, whether we disagree or not, remember nothing but resentment grows from silence. Let’s keep talking!