If all people are children, then earth would be heaven; Not literally, otherwise we would be having sequels to the "Children of the Corn" books and movies and earth would be hell.
If all people are children, having a naive philosophy in the way things are perceived, then we can easily see that the problem in the world is simple. We can easily see that the street kids are hungry and homeless. We can see that the old people in the streets need shelter and comfort.We can build a world based on common sense. But that's far-fetched from what we have right now; however I saw a small glimmer of hope one Saturday evening.
Like other Saturdays, My wife and I brought our son to a video rental shop. We rented a Dora vcd and my little boy asked if he can play in the McDonald's Playhouse just beside the shop. As we got out the double doors, my son was greeted by an Aeta boy.
The little boy, like other unfortunate Aetas, seemed malnourished. He wasn't alone, a few steps away from him is his family; His mother begging for money while feeding a baby in her bossom. Three sleeping children, whom I assumed to be the little boy's sibling, shared the spot.
Innocently, my son greeted the little boy back with a smile. He walked towards the little boy patted the little boy's head (he does that a lot to babies) and asked why the boy wasn't wearing any slippers or shoes. The little boy did not reply, but looked at his feet instead.
Imagine my surprise. My son saw beyond the difference in skin color, hair and language. He saw what was necessary.
If an adult sees the little boy asking for help, his first instinct is to either check his pocket for coins or to ignore the call for help. But to my son's point of view, the little boy needs a slipper because the pavement is cold and his feet might get hurt; common sense.
I told my son to give the boy some coins as for the moment. I handed him the coins and he happily gave it to the little boy. In the back of my mind, I've decided to add slippers to the things I will give to the poor beggars this coming December. I Will bring my son with me, since his vision is obviously keener than mine.
My son bade goodbye to the little boy. That night, as my son played in the playhouse, I was playing with my thoughts of childhood and innocence; and have decided to live young again.
Peole call me Rye; and Rye is a cereal. At least my life-long identity crisis has been answered simply by a grass-grown grain. I am not alone, since barley and wheat are my cousins. I also happen to be useful. According to Wikipedia (copied verbatim; hence plagiarism) 