I’m reading my email now, and looking at some recent blog posts, all written before 10 a.m. on Friday, December 14th, and I want to shake these people, scream at them, tell them that there’s no meaning in makeup or last minute Christmas shopping or signing up for a seminar on Pinterest. I want to relive this day and turn back to the relatively innocent headlines in my morning newspaper. I want to turn off the television to which I am unhealthily glued, and I can’t. I want to shake everyone who is against gun control. I want to go and hug those parents, I want to tell them it was all a nasty nightmare. Only it wasn’t. It was real. And tonight their babies will not come home. Nothing will be the same for them. Nothing will be the same for anyone, anywhere. It won’t be the same because we are too busy writing about stupid things, doing stupider things, and building a world that is not safe for our babies, or anyone else, for that matter.
Published by madmuser
An author, a teacher, a candlestick maker? I am lucky enough to have followed my muse through a most eclectic life of many careers, many interests, and many friends and liasions. Two beautiful children, now grown and one their own, several books -- the penultimate accomplishment dream come true, a hores trainer, a college professor, and a stint in corporate America to validate my feelings that I never, ever want to go there again. So I donned my ruby slippers and dared to take those different paths, those diverging paths, and that has made all the difference! (Thank you, Robert!) View all posts by madmuser