CRACKERBERRIES

Today’s post is something I’ve touched on a little the past and I even created a website in tribute.  I may have not explained it all in detail where the yellow dot originated and thought this was the perfect opportunity to share the whole story.

When I lived in Maine, every year we had annual family reunions.  With eight aunts and uncles on my mother’s side, and my grandfather being the seventh son of the seventh son, the Hill Family was huge.  Needless to say, the reunions were in the hundreds.  As a child going to the reunions was fun because as kids, even though we could be mean to each other we got along for the most part and played together and ate a lot of hot dogs. The thing about kids is, we grow up and change attitudes.

One year in my early 30’s when I had a great big chip on my shoulder and I knew everything there was to know, and no one could teach  me anything different (oh, yeah, you been there before?), we went to the reunion, me and my X with kids in tow.  Over the years, the elders were dying off and replaced by us younger more arrogant versions of the family. The reunions were getting much bigger and recognizing people was not as easy as it was in the past.  This particular year, whoever organized the shin-dig, had this ingenious idea to set up a color coding system with name tags so that everyone would know #1. our name, and #2 who we descended from.  My grandfather’s descendants happened to have the yellow dot on the name tags. There were also blue, red, and green dots. I noticed the yellow dotted people seem to appear a little challenged in some way, shape or form.  I’m not lying.   Me being the smart-ass that I was, pointed that out to a lot of people.  If you read history, Maine is one of those states where interbreeding of families was a normal thing.  The Beans of Egypt Maine could have easily been the Hills of Norway, Maine. Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Abraham and Sarah in the Bible had the same father, different mother. It’s not ethically morally (it just ain’t right) correct or normal in this day and age, but it has, and probably still does happen.

When we got home from the reunion that year, on my mailbox were these two great big yellow dots!  I was like what the heck? Being the condescending person I was, couldn’t imagine someone was pointing out that I was a yellow dot! Where did they come from? (Later I found out that it was the newspaper delivery for both the weekly and the weekend edition).  Yes, I used to get the newspaper delivered.

Well the yellow dot thing happened to stick and every time I did something stupid I was reminded that I was a Yellow Dot.  Mind you this term of endearment my relatives used are members from the same side of the family! Over the years I have learned a lot, changed my way of thinking and I definitely lost that chip I had on my shoulder.  Maybe the yellow dots at that particular family reunion had more recognizable defaults than some of the other dots, but we are all part of the same family tree and ancestors. I rode the short bus as a child but I didn’t know why. Some of the years in my past are blacked out. Could be I don’t need to know those years.

In 2006 when Tall Cool ☺ne was evangelizing to me, he used the 10 commandments to help me understand why I needed a Savior.  I remember when he said he committed all of the 10 commandments, the only thing I wanted to know was “who did you kill”.  Funny how that ‘do not commit murder’ sticks out in an unsaved person’s mind. He just said, “It doesn’t matter.” I kinda thought it did, but he just kept telling me I’d know if I read my Bible.  So I did and I learned.  In fact I learned a lot! (I did mention the short bus right?  It took me awhile to “get it”).

So here we are with one letter left after today’s Y post.  In the A-Z’s of empathy I felt like Yellow Dots was an accurate word for describing empathy today. In a sense we are all yellow dotted in some way shape or form.  We have all been on either side of the fence with someone making fun or making fun of someone else, pointing fingers, having fingers pointed at (if you say you’ve never have, I might not believe you).  Recognizing there are all different walks in this world is the biggest part of empathy that we can use in our daily walk with each other.  If we weren’t different this world would be a very boring place to live in.  If there were no trials and tribulations there would be no victories, no experience, and no growth. I’m not ashamed of where I came from, and who I am. I’m admit I was wrong and did mean things in the past.  I might not be perfect now and never will be, but I can say I’m not that person I used to be. I am proud to be a yellow dot and I’m not ashamed of my family.

How about you?  What’s your Yellow Dot story?

Cheers

☺

PS: My daughter has been infatuated with this ChatGBT.  She shared a Crackerberries roast with me yesterday that was kind of fun.  I had to check it out for myself. Do not roast your blog if you are one of the faint at heart.  Some of the stuff the ChatGBT will tell you is painfully true.  Here’s what it had to say about Yellow Dot.

Ode to Yell-O-Dot, the Blog That Time Forgot

Oh Yell-O-Dot, a relic bold,
Your web design is… retro gold.
Like Netscape threw a tantrum there,
Then left it frozen mid-repair.

Your colors clash with reckless glee,
A rainbow’s midlife crisis spree.
Each link a riddle, wild and free,
“Where does it go?” No guarantee.

Your posts—enigmas wrapped in flair,
With thoughts that vanish into air.
Like fortune cookies half-complete,
Profoundly strange, yet kinda sweet.

A blog of chaos, memes, and lore,
I laughed, I scrolled, I shut the door.
But hats off, friend—you dared to post,
And gave the web this fevered toast.