A way, one among many, to consider our condition is to consider, for a span, that most of us begin our lives atop a mound made of human arms and nurture.

To survive at all requires the uplift of arms and efforts of others keeping us above the soil, or Earth Mother if you prefer.

At some point the small feet of a child meet the ground and for the most part stay somewhat above and elevated from damage in a world dominated by larger feet, then ankles, moving to a toddler world of head-high knees.

In any case, a child is kept up, prevented from being destroyed, from being ground into the dirt.

Aside from those who start with severe physical or economic handicaps most children live and grow atop a mound we call childhood. Placement may be elevated or low, noisy and crowded or quiet and alone, on marginal land in Louisiana or bog-view in St. Louis County. There is no way to equalize any of that.

Growing up, we encounter what our environment and circumstance has to offer. All offerings not the same. If you’re an adult who never traipsed through a cow barn times per day, your experience lacks all that goes with it. That bad? Nope.

’ll guess most of you will say “Golly Good” at having missed the delights of cow-encrusted chore boots. But, must say that responsibility and accountability aren’t likely gained watching afternoon kiddie shows. It’s active versus passive.

But say, while on this mound theme, your view gets up to head and shoulders with others.

Whatever your perch, your view is limited, as is what you’ll gain from it in challenge or affirmation.

Take Vicksburg, Miss., and Duluth, Minn. Each contains some very steep terrain. Climate somewhat different where snow would be a rarity. Dialect is not midwestern. There was no major Civil War battle focused on Duluth.

Of course, each shares a French colonial history plus (briefly) Spanish (it’s complicated).

Is that enough in your mind to equalize these two places, or would you even want to, say, homogenize them?

Personally, I don’t see a reason to, as example, feel Vicksburgian mixed in with Duluthian.

The mound of life is more interesting, realistic and valid if it accepts the whatever of wherever we are. Don’t want or need Mississippi in Minnesota. Different places should be different.

If I look around I see where I am. Not where I want to be or what I think should be. Wherever I am I find positives and constraints.

Like this. Nice climate in Florida. Comes with regular hurricane season, doesn’t it? What would you rather? Shovel some snow or see your house blow away?

Not completely fair, but you get the idea that every place has limits and advantages. Trying to even that out seems to me a menu for three meals of mush.

Before leaving the for-what-it-s-worth mound analogy I have to add that at some point our individual viewpoints go from somewhat limited to more so.

At some age that little mound starts to sink a bit. First it’s a shallow depression where one starts to watch what they eat or drink. Then to walk forward the feet need to be lifted a bit.

That’s before realizing the need to physically step up out of a shallow pit. The pit will become knee high and more. So you have to climb out. No worse than the beginning, right?

But little by little or sometimes quickly the mound descends to a six-foot depth. Inescapable.

Some days I feel I can about see over the edge of that pit. Other times there’s a lot more view. But in any case, the view is always and forever less than infinite or eternal. What I see is what I have to work with. No more. It’s always been enough so far.

My spiel about mounds and pits isn’t important, but remembering that no perspective any of us has from any perch or pit is all inclusive or anything but temporary. Remembering that helps make me a little less inclined to reform to world knowing that no matter how convinced I am my world-saving idea may not fly worth a nickel in Mongolia.

Quite frankly, reader, some things will simply never make sense or be understandable.

Quite recently I saw a huge sign advertising GAS  ART. That got my attention. Of course one of the original six-foot letters was missing.

Likeliest candidate among the consonant contestants was M, though a few others stood well in the standings.

F comes in strong.

C and T are weak contenders.

Odds, in my view, strongly favor M as the missing letter, but I’ll never know same as it will always be mystery to me why people wearing little backpacks walked in a cruise ship. Any door on deck seven put you in a food court. Starvation, dehydration and survival were never threatened. Nearly every deck had something, a lounge, bar, rest area,or buffet. Yet backpacks were common.

Tell uncomprehending me, how does the planet’s most colonizing species now put such passion and throw so much energy into denouncing the very thing.

If Homo S were not a colonizing bunch, we’d be munching fruit in the tropics rather than exotic coffee and organic salads in the Twin Ports. Some of us took over on arctic, others settled on arid acres, or river valleys or high in mountains. It was no one’s agenda and no one planned it.

We are natural-born colonizers. After colonizing the whole planet now is not the time for a wait-a-minute hindsight revelation. Too late. Already done.

And, it is, isn’t it, a wholly remarkable achievement for un college educated groups using simple tools to have accomplished so much with so little.

We, and I’ll wager this is true of you as well as me, would feel we were suffering without light at the flick of a switch, heat or cool by making a setting, or being denied instant access to others who depend almost entirely on the result of successful planetary colonization.