the fWord, my grandson, and stereotypes

My grandson’s daycare worker told his parents he said the fWord several times today.

Mind you my grandson is 23 1/2 months old. That’s 2 years and 1 1/2 months old. He’s only been on this earth for just over 2 years, while the day care worker (assuming she is at a minimum 60 years old) has been here at least 58 years longer than this 23 1/2 month old baby, toddler.

So, a little background on me. I served in the Marine Corps for 20 years. In my early years I became an expert at cursing (or cussing if you’d prefer). My early years of cursing lasted longer than it should have.

I know cursing upwards and downwards, inside and out. I know it from the front to the back. I could tell you about someone I didn’t respect with the most graceful of a cursing stream as you could get. Mind you I didn’t curse at any of the people I was talking about, but I let them have it within my small circle of friends, co-workers. At home, I cursed when I was angry. Not name calling, but using the words as part of my anger. It was ugly, horrible, and disgusting to say the least.

Thank God for counseling, Jesus, a very close friend, my desire to get to the root of whatever I was dealing with, a close friend at work — who told me one day, “Susy, the reason people cuss/curse is because they don’t have the vocabulary to tell you…