Despite being one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known, my mom always had a grounded perspective on beauty.

Perhaps it’s because of what she learned from one the stories of fighting for civil rights in her deep south, hometown.  She, and others, were at a demonstration when a member of the authorities questioned, in a syrupy sweet, Southern drawl, why she had joined the demonstration.

“Don’t you know that we love you?”, he sincerely asked her.

My wife never heard that story but she’s no less grounded.  Whenever I forget myself and praise my daughters about their good looks, my wife is always there to correct me.

“Tell them their smart!”, she scolds.

If my daughters have heard that story or noticed the scolds, they haven’t let on, but I’m sure that they’re getting the message.  For instance, Marcel didn’t hesistate to test out her new safety scissors on one of her braids the other day. One inch less later, my children have proven that they won’t let their beauty get in the way of the pursuit of knowledge.