Dedication to Tristan.

The old man across the way is at it again. Every day he finds his way out to the front lawn with a bucket and a minerature shovel. His straw hat positioned just enough to prevent the expression on his face from shining through. His task is obvious. The same yesterday as is today and sure to be tommorow. He cautiously combs through his lush green lawn looking for what must be viewed as villans, Dandelions! Their bright, little, yellow faces sparce, but never the less poke up randomly as though they were small, smiling faces lost amongst the green crowd of strangers. Every day it is the same. This man determined to see nothing but green in his front lawn. Every yellow spot is quickly removed and disregarded. To most the dandelion is a weed. It does not have it's place amongst it's green companions. As a small child would relay that these are "flowers" to be shared with mom or golden opportunities to be picked and played with. Friends or foes? Is that the question? The old man will always continue to want to rid his lawn of these foes with the belief that they will "choke" out his lawn. I find the same to be true in a society with so many choices and so many beautiful faces. There are those yellow spots of sunshine that pop through. Some will appreciate them for the smile that is brought to their face but most will continue to look on at them as weeds that need to either be made "green" like everyhing else or done away with and disregarded. I can not change the old man, nor would I attempt to, but I will continue to hope that one day as he faces that front lawn that he will set down his shovel and bucket and sits amongst the grass along with it's dandelions. Perhaps just once, he'll tips his hat to reveal an expression of appreciation and joy.