The advantage to being really sick is all the time you have to read. Over the last few weeks between catnaps, I've spent some time re-reading some old favorites. I couldn't put my finger on the precise reason these books made my keeper shelf, but I read them often.
Then this morning, it all came together. Almost all of the books have characters who would not be classified as normal. And all the rest of the characters in the stories accept them for what they are--a little off center, but interesting.
As a culture, we don't easily forgive or accept those who don't fit in to our preconceived idea of normal. Witness the terrible incidents of bullying and outright physical attacks. But what IS normal? Who decides? Is it just a group perception or has someone made that determination in the past?
If I want to wear reindeer antlers and purple high heels, why does that threaten my fellow man or woman? Who cares? How very boring life would be if we all followed the same path. We must learn to appreciate our differences, rather than demand conformity.
I'm off now to locate my bunny ears and tutu.
anny
