Partial.

You know how I love words.  Well.  Partial is one of them.

It can be so completely different, depending on its use.

Partial.  Like… not all there.  Something existing only in part.  Incomplete.

OR.  It could be…

Partial.  When we are favoring one thing above the other.  Biased.  A fondness for someone or something.

Tonight, I went to see our oldest grandson’s soccer game.  He is a junior in high school.

I got to the game a few minutes late.  So  technically, I saw a partial amount of the game.  Albeit, most of it, but still it was partial.

But as I watched, I thought…. “Levi is the best player out there.  He is such a great ball handler.”   Okay… so maybe I am partial.  In the other way… partial.  I have a soft spot for him.  Yep.  I am pretty fond of that young man.  Old Partial Polly.   And I still think he was the best player on the team tonight.

That’s just how we humans are though.  We are partial about certain things in our lives, and in particular…. we are partial about the people we love.

Being partial is a funny thing sometimes.  For instance, it is perfectly okay if a parent says their kid is lazy…or messy…  (or whatever).  But by god, YOU are NOT allowed to say that THEIR child is “this or that.”   No way.  No how.  You see,  parents are pretty partial.  Grandparents too.

Not so very long ago…. our dog groomer called our Ollie a “little stuffed sausage”….   Now. I know Ollie was getting a bit on the wide side.  But don’t tell ME my dog is fat.  Those are dog-fighting words.

I think it is all fine and good really… to be partial.  It just means we really love someone, and we want to protect them.

It is nice when someone is partial towards us, too.  It is that good feeling… like someone is in your corner.

And hey, let’s face it.  We are all partial to all sorts of things in life.  Chicken eggs, the color blue, Indie music, the Kansas City Chiefs, the Apple Watch, Vincent Van Gogh, and Braunschweiger on crackers.

I am not sure why we like some things more than others, but we sure do.  What causes someone to favor a Daisy over a Merigold?  What about Spiderman more than The Green Lantern.  Or, to like Vampire Weekend over Flatbush Zombies?  The Sound of Music more than Mary Poppins?   Pop-Tarts over Ho-Hos.

Ah.  Just another mystery in this great big Universe of ours.

But for all the planets spinning through space… I still contend….
Levi was the best player out there. I’m pretty sure of that.

I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.
— Gilbert K. Chesterton

Do right. Do your best. Treat others as you want to be treated.
—  Lou Holtz