"this isn't the day to talk about this"
(part eleven)


remember seven or so weeks ago when TWENTY kids were gunned down in their classroom?

i'm sure you remember it. it was terrible. i cried. sarah cried. it felt like, for those that thought about it long and hard enough, everybody cried. it felt terrible. but it felt like we had finally reached it, a tipping point.

in my opinion, i felt like something terrible and tragic and "close to home" would have to happen to change the national discourse on guns. guns and their lack of control were a debate topic and had been for years, but there's only so much angst one can work up for a random person dying here, or many random people in a movie theater dying there. we don't often directly know those people around the country that are senselessly gunned down, and we are so desensitized to it happening everyday anyway, we see a story on the nightly news or online and we casually scroll past it to the next cute picture of one kitten licking another kitten's head.

but then newtown happened, and then children died. many children. in the most haunting setting one could ever dream up. every one of our kids, we send them off to school and we expect them to be safe. on that day, not only were they not safe, they didn't come home.

my anger at the lack of gun control combined with bothered people with no regard for human life enraged me. i couldn't stand the thought of one more person dying. and i wanted you to feel my pain, but, more importantly, i wanted you to feel those kids' pain. i wanted every person in this country to imagine a bullet ripping through their body, exploding every bone and organ in its path, leading to twenty children breathing their last breaths through shredded lungs. i wanted the imagery to be fierce, because the action and results are fierce.

and for a few days, it felt like things were going to change.

and then they didn't.

yada, yada, yada.

fast forward to this morning and i woke to this article.

1280 people dead from guns since december 14.

ONE THOUSAND, TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY.

man, what the fuck is wrong with us?

think of your life. think of how precious you feel every part of your life, your health, and your well-being is. think about how you would do anything to keep yourself alive. better yet, think about your children or grandchildren, and think about what you wouldn't do to keep them safe. to keep them healthy. to give them a chance to grow up and be happy. nothing, right? and then think about how it would absolutely destroy your world if something were to happen to them.

considering how precious we would likely claim any one life to be, wouldn't it be logical that we would feel a massive disturbance in the force if we lost even one life unnecessarily?

if not one, surely we'd be disturbed to move if we knew that 1280 of those precious lives were taken in a span of seven weeks, right? think of the lives lost. think of the parents/families/friends whose lives are now destroyed forever.

please, think about them and be moved.

please, don't just scroll down. kittens really aren't that cute. not so cute that they should draw your attention away from such devastation. draw your attention away so you can bitch about how early you are up on a saturday.

i'm still so mad, and i just don't know what to do. every one that keeps talking about their rights and the "gubmint" and how it could never happen to them. that attitude is literally killing people every day.

and we're okay with that?!

goddammit.

a hypothetical analog?


"guns don't kill people. people kill people"

let's say, for a second, that the above defense of gun ownership wasn't retarded illogical irresponsible. let's say, for a second, that guns manufactured purpose was to show the love of god to others.

now, jump into your delorean, pump that fucker up to 88 mph, and zippity zip back to, let's say, august 28th of 1963. you're in the crowd, way back in the back. you can barely make out the lincoln memorial, much less hear the "i have a dream" speech. you kick yourself for not setting the time on the delorean for a few hours earlier, but are too tired or too lazy to hop back in the car and try again. you just decide to kick in the back with the other late-to-the-party'ers. you start talking to some well-enough meaning, middle-aged white guy. he's come to the march on washington for the spectacle of it all. he has taken his place near the back so he can hightail it back home before the crowd disperses and he's swallowed by the overwhelming mass of black people fellow human beings.

middle-aged white guy is nice enough you observe. during your conversation about the day and the era he lives in, he says something that strikes you as familiar.

"it's not really racism that hurts people. it's the racists."

you think to yourself, "what the fuck?", but you keep that profanity in your brain and respond with a curious, "hunh?"

"we all got racism in us, son. we can't help it. it's the world we live in. there's, what, 189 million people in this country nowadays? that's a whole lot history, filled with slavery and our country being okay with slavery. now, we don't got slavery. we just got people who love black people like the bible tells us to, and we got people who are trying to pretend they love black people like the bible tells us to, and we got people that still wish we had slavery. all of us are sick. we all have the racism. it's in our dna. it's how our country was born. it'll always be in us." 

you nod your head because you don't know if this guy is batshit crazy or the grandfather you never had. either way, you want him to keep talking.

"there's 189 million of us in this country, son. even if we wanted to, we couldn't ask everyone to give us their racism back. it's just not possible. we just got to hope that the older this country gets, the more of them that still want slavery will die off." 

the racists?

"yep. the ones that take them ugly thoughts that we all have in our heads and let 'em all out. shoot black people. spray 'em with hoses. keep their kids away from the black ones. burn crosses in their yards. 

it's not the racism that's the problem. it's the racists."

i gotta go. he's done talking. i better get home." 

you sit there and let the mass of people wash past you. some of 'em give a double-take to your sweet-ass ride, but most of them look happy to go where they are going. not where you're going.

back to the future.

--------

after sarah link-bombed my facebook timeline this afternoon, the above scenario flashed through my head while reading the ensuing conversation. i don't know why the delorean in my mind took me to 1963 and not to some other important and formative date in our country's history. maybe i'm just already feeling black history month. maybe it was "the racism" inside me. who knows.

the gun thing, as i've noted many times here in the last couple months, kills me. the discussion kills me. people talking about losing their freedoms and rights is starting to kill me.

"thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." a commenter on the christian left blog said that uttering those words today would be tantamount to calling for a revolution, and they'd be right.

we are so fucking fascinated and entitled to these country specific rights and freedoms of ours that we casually and conveniently lose sight that being born here versus the middle of the rain forest was just dumb luck. we casually and conveniently lose ourself in what we enjoy and what we've earned versus what is best for the greater good. we hide behind what can be passed through our broken legislative system instead of taking a proper stand. and we casually and conveniently play the "well, i'll never be that crazy motherfucker that abducts kids off school buses" card with no regard for the guy that actually is that crazy motherfucker.

the old-timer in my pretend past was well-meaning, but he was wrong. it's not the racists that are the problem. it's, of course, the racism.

mlk didn't "have a dream today" of no more racists. he had a dream of no more racism.

now, let's get back to the subject at hand.

"guns don't kill people. people kill people."

"we've got to attack mental-illness."

"we've got to have less violence in movies and video games."

"i just shoot my handheld weapon of mass-destruction for fun. at paper targets and beer bottles."

"my gun that was passed down to me from my great, great, great grandpappy has never been shot. never will be shot. i'm not giving up that gun. you're asking me to give away my grandpappy."

the hypothetical analog in 1963 is not, i repeat, not apples to apples.

but the sentiment is.

the sentiment is that i am choosing to ignore the problem at the same time i'm glossing over the symptom of the problem. the sentiment is one of passing the buck. the sentiment is "it could never happen to me." the sentiment is prideful. the sentiment places more importance on "your" life than "their" life. the sentiment implies that something must be done, but washington is too broke to fix it.

the sentiment is for shit.

"thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

why say that shit if we don't really mean it? you think there are guns in heaven? for real??? heavenly shooting ranges where you just blow off some of that angel angst after saint peter picked your pocket in texas hold 'em again?

alright.

our world, on the whole, man. we don't want heaven on earth. if we did, mission work and caring for others and taking extra special care of the poor wouldn't just be a vacation to build a church somewhere in mexico. or an exception to the rule. it would be a lifestyle. a way.

the way.

we don't want heaven on earth. we want our guns. we want what we've earned, dadgummit. we want more drug tests. we want what'll make it through the congress, because ain't shit making it through congress.

we want for shit.

the gun thing, man. it's not a choice. it's not a debate.

it's a mutation. it's a perversion. it's scary. and it's sad.

i have a dream, too. and don't misunderstand me. it's a bigger dream than you turning in your guns because it sends the smallest of messages that you're interested more in the greater good than your born in the usa rights.

but for the moment, i do wish the "good" people would turn in their guns. throw 'em in a pit. burn 'em. ban them. stop manufacturing the ammunition. and let the racists the bad guys eventually die off.

stop making excuses. stop being afraid.

what are you afraid of?

god's got this.

doesn't he?

resolutions

(2013)

2012 was the first time in a long time that i didn’t post new year’s resolutions. i usually get to them toward then end of january anyway, and the end of january, 2012 was when we all know i got reintroduced to the cancer thing. not only did it throw off the resolutions on the blog, but it threw off the blog, on the whole, for about 10 months. only when we got to the end of the year did i get back to writing with any consistency, and, even then, it was shrouded with cancer this and chemo that. all relevant to my life-living, for sure, but you can only say so many times how shitty you feel before even you stop being interested in hearing about it, yourself. i’m starting to get tired of hearing about it.

so, it’s time to get back on the wagon, and it’s time to “get busy living” with at least as much moxy as i spent the lion’s share of the last year “get(ting) busy dying”.  ten resolutions. ten goals. ten ways to make 2013 a better place than 2012.

1) don’t die – i  always start with this. and, in a haunting way, i know that the one year that i fail will be my last, but, here’s the deal. i don’t want to die. not this year. maybe not ever. i don’t know that i’ll ever be ready to die. for 33 years, i took life for granted. i would live ‘til i was 85-95. i’d struggle getting around, and then i’d pass in my sleep. so naïve. every year up until 2009, i didn’t actively have to fight for my life. and then i did. cancer grew. we cut it out. 2010 and ’11 were a little more stable and had more psychological conflict than physical. 2012, i got back in the ring. cancer grew. again. we cut it out. again. and then the chemotherapy started. and it’s been an active fight not to die ever since. the first five months of 2013 are going to be hard, but if they help me “don’t die”, fuck it. i’ll take it.

2) be more positive…about everything – how often am i critical versus how often do i offer praise? if this blog can be considered a sample, the proof is right here on this site. now, i am not alone. as humans, we want people to know what grinds our gears in a way that we don’t when it comes to what makes us happy. i don’t really get it, but it’s just the way it happens. being happy takes work. saying you’re happy takes work. finding new ways to be happy takes work. telling other people positive things takes work. in the end, is the work worth it? data suggests it is. i am sitting in the louisville airport right now waiting on a flight out and away from the pet supplies plus yearly summit. our motivational speaker spent a lot of his time and energy on the power of positive reinforcement. he suggested that to make the same emotional impact on a person as just one criticism, you must give five praises. ridiculous. that sounds so hard. but the more thought i give to it, it sounds worth it. i hardly ever go out of my way to say nice things to my family or my friends or my employees. on the other hand, i yell and scream and bitch at all of them like it’s going out of style. granted, my temper is shorter than usual, but the fuse being short shouldn’t dictate the amount of anger that tends to pour out of me at the drop of a hat. i need to change this. hannah and caroline are both old enough to log my tantrums into their long-term memory banks. and that’s fine. every parent gets mad. every parent will yell. what i’ve got to do is find a way to balance out all that negativity. ideally, not only could i balance it out, but what if, at the end of the year, my kids and friends and employees could tell you that they felt more appreciated this year than they did last? it would make their world better. and it would make my world better. all around. i don’t know how i’ll quantify the results of this one at the end of the year to grade myself as pass or fail, but i’ve got to be better at this. for everyone around me.

3) run the vulcan 10k – this one includes a lot of work, but the essence is this. i felt better about myself when i was running. i was healthier and in a better mood. i loved being lean and as in shape at 35 as i ever in my life had been. i won’t be able to run, more than likely, ‘til the end of may. but that should give me plenty of time to get back to 10k strength, and that will be a great achievement for me.

4) help get humc a proper vision statement – this one should happen soon, but it’s no less an important goal for me. our long range planning committee has been working on and off for almost two years now on this project, trying to answer the question, “who is huffman united methodist church?” we think we have done our due diligence as a committee and we think we are fairly representative of the church, in general. this sunday, we take our recommendations to the portion of the church who have genuine interest in the future of our congregation and we’ll see if they agree or disagree. if they agree, we'll move forward with a quickness. If not, well, we’ll cross that bridge if it happens.

5) don’t get fat – those that have followed my resolutions for years should be proud of me that this isn’t number two per usual. my vanity has taken quite the hit over the last few years, but it’s not gone completely. fat and i just don’t get along. not exercising the way i’ve wanted to and i don’t get along. not eating as much as i damn well please and i don’t get along. either way, i’ve learned to use a phrase these last five months that i used to make fun of. “portion control”. instead of eating two or three servings of whatever at dinner because i had already burned 750 calories earlier in the day, i now may not finish everything on my plate, because i am already at my arbitrary calorie limit for the day. sad, but true. dammit, i am not getting fat.

6) do something other than bitch about guns – this one is going to take some work, but i don’t know what else to do. facebook, twitter, this blog and the like are great outlets for my whining, but it’s not going to change anything other than a very few minds. i don’t want to take your guns. or your rights. or your hunting privileges. but the backlash against the idea of gun control makes me want to fucking vomit. i get stat-ripped bullshit about hammers and bats and drunk driving. it’s not that i don’t want people not to die from hammers, it’s just that stat-ripping me about hammers makes you sound like a moron that is more in love with your gun than being a part of a solution to save one precious and fragile life from being blown away. i don’t have tons of disposable time, but i’d like to find a local and impactful way to get on the front line of a solution, not just offering my opinions from afar.

7) get limbo out of room 217 – firstly, this isn’t all on me, i get that. i think limbo has grown up and away from being kevin’s little baby, so maybe i should amend the wording. help get limbo out of room 217 at the church. we love our sunday morning time. we love our christmas parties. we love whenever we see each other, but we need to do more. from the jump, we’ve wanted to find ways to affect our world around us in relevant ways. my health and, well, just life have impacted that progress, but i think we’re ready to make it happen again. the conversation started anew without me last week. i can’t wait to get back and enter the fray next sunday and see what we can accomplish this year.

8) blog more – i mean, why not, right? this should be a gimme considering how low the number of posts were last year, but i am not putting this on the list for it to be a gimme. i am putting it on the list because i love to write. some posts, i am on. some posts, i am not. but i need to get back to it. because i like it. and because i want to get better. write. write to make sense. write to make sense to others. and write to give my girls what they deserve. a better understanding of who their daddy was when they weren’t aware that he did anything other than work, spend time with them, and go to falcons games.

9) for the love of sweet baby jesus, go see lebron games play in person – i think i’ve failed on this one two or three times by now, and that is ridiculous. he plays one or two games in atlanta every flipping year. i don’t want to see lebron when he’s a shell of his former self playing pick up games at the civic center in birmingham. i need to see him now, while he’s flash fucking gordon.

10) keep fuck(ing) this cancer shit – cancer will always be a part of me now, even if it’s not in me at the moment (i hope). but “fuck this cancer shit” isn’t just about the now. it’s not just about getting through the chemo phase of the program. it’s not just about praying for and hoping for another clean scan come may. the whole #ftcs thing, for me, has become a lifestyle. it’s become a coming out party of sorts. life is too short, man, to not make a difference. to not ruffle some feathers. to not call people out on their irrational obama bullshit or how cracked people get about tarnishing the legacy of the sweet baby jesus. for me, “fuck this cancer shit” doesn’t spit in people’s faces. it doesn’t mean to be disrespectful. it just may mean that your worldview doesn’t match up to mine and we need to figure out how to work that shit out. not for me. not for you. but for the betterment of us. and our world. and our future. it’s way past time to redefine what is unusual. to redefine appropriate. to redefine taboo. what the fuck matters in this world other than actively loving others and actively loving the ones we care about the most the best we possibly can? to me, “fuck this cancer shit” will mean being the best that i can possibly be, in every situation i can control, and coming out at the end of 2013 with a feeling of accomplishment that i haven’t had in years.

happy january, and make a resolution. challenge me on mine. go get yours.         

#ftcs

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part ten)


ignorance isn't bliss. it's ignorant.

i've already given a friend a hard time about stat-ripping since the newtown massacre went down. "this country has stricter gun laws than us and has more crime. more death."

yada, yada, yada. we need more guns, not less. arm the teachers. arm everyone. arm the world. death to us all! yada, yada, yada... the hunger games is real. we kill children on tv for our own entertainment.

rabble, rabble, rabble. we're much more civilized than that. that would never happen. our country would collectively change draw the line in the sand. right there. no children killing children on television. NEVER!!! 

no, i won't bother with too many statistics. i'll just share one and one prediction, both from demandaplan.org.

as of this morning, the site cites that 5155 people have been killed by guns in this country since the night of the aurora, colorado shootings on july 20. since mass gun death is already on your brain, think of that number in all caps.

FIVE THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-FIVE people in LESS THAN FIVE MONTHS.

fucking ridiculous.

FORTY-EIGHT THOUSAND predicted to die in the next four years.

fucking ridiculous.

guns don't kill people. people kill people. with guns.

fucking ridiculous.

we all have mass gun death on the brain, because, this time around, kids were involved. sweet, innocent children.

we've heard the reports now. sweet, innocent children doing nothing more than spending their day at school. maniac breaks in. shoots each child between two times and ELEVEN times.

we've had nightmares about what those bullets did to their little bodies, ripping them to pieces. we've hoped and prayed that they didn't know what hit them, because we can't stand the thought of a child suffering. we've already started removing the images and the thoughts from the front part of our brains, haven't we? we can't stand to keep thinking about it. we've got other things to do. we've got to go on with our lives.

god bless that small community of newtown, but thank god it wasn't trussville, right?

wrong.

because it could've been trussville. or chalkville. or huffman. or your child's school. or your grandchild's. it just wasn't on friday.

and for 5155 families in the last five months, it happened to them in their home, their place of employment, or somewhere else. some place, any place that they didn't expect to die from a bullet from a gun being held by a person.

fucking ridiculous.

just because we were lucky enough this time to not draw the short straw, does that mean it's okay to not change anything?

it's not.

i'm telling you, man. it's a bad way to live.

you keep telling yourself you're not going to have an ak-47 stuck in your forehead until you do.

you keep telling yourself you're not gonna get cancer until you do.

you keep telling yourself that our country's fascination with fucking guns is not going to come back and bite us. and then it does. over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over...

you get my point.

5155 in less than five months.

stop this shit. stop telling me it's better this way. stop telling me more people with guns is the answer.

please, stop it.

if those bullets ripping through those children isn't enough to change your mind, your mind is likely not going to change. i want to say, "shame on you". that's harsh. i'll just think it.

the same way you think i'm foolish for thinking that eliminating guns from our country and culture is a pipe dream and dangerous in its own right.

you're right. it wasn't your gun or your negligence that destroyed those children's bodies and lives.

it was someone just like you. just like me. someone that never thought it would happen to them.

only it did. and, god rest her soul, she was shot in the face, too.

it's time to change. it's past time to change. it's over time to change.

please, let's change.

"this isn't the day to talk about this"
(part nine)


"I know karate. So, it's okay. I'll lead the way out."

For me, it will be this quote that sticks with me the longest I expect.

Only a child, a bright-eyed, innocent little boy full of piss and vinegar could (most likely, subconsciously)  block out the fact that the world around him was falling to pieces, stay calm, and move out of the chaos.

kids say the darndest things.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part eight)


anything you can stat-rip, i can stat-rip, bettttaaaa. i can stat-rip anything better than you. no, you can't. yes, i can. no, you can't. yes, i can. no, you can't. yes, i can. yes, i can. yes, i caaaaannn!

i was told that i had a 97% chance of my cancer never returning after it was removed in 2009. 97%. those are pretty good odds, right? statistics would say that i was in the clear. i wasn't. it came back.

i can tell you how many gun deaths this country has suffered just this year.

you can tell me about other countries with gun control laws considered stricter than ours and how those laws have led to more death and not less.

i can tell you about japan.

you can tell me about mexico.

to twenty sets of parents in newtown, statistics don't mean shit. they lost their sons and daughters yesterday because some maniac chose to gun them down in their classroom. statistics would tell them that this kind of thing had less of a chance of happening in their small town than my cancer had a chance of returning to my body. it happened.

and so, now what?

statistically speaking, newtown, specifically sandy hook elementary, is likely to be the safest place on earth from now 'til the end of time. these things hardly ever happen anywhere. they certainly never happen in the same place twice.

i feel better already.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part seven)


"if not us, then who? if not now, then when? will there be a better day for it tomorrow or next year? will it be less dangerous then? will someone else's children have to risk their lives instead of us risking ours" - john lewis

how long is long enough to mourn and remember a tragedy you are not directly related to? who sets the arbitrary time line which defines what is appropriate now and what is appropriate later?

as i mentioned last night, there are those people who genuinely are making efforts to connect on some spiritual level with the families in newtown. this attention they are offering is undivided and unwavering. i say again, the world needs those people. for those people, if they need to wait and have this conversation later, god bless them, because they bless us all.

i choose to connect on a different level. i choose to hear and see and read about and think about and be horrified of the events in newtown. i keep those children in my mind as i type these words. i do not dishonor their being taken from their families. i take offense to it. as we all do.

yesterday was absolutely the day to continue (not begin or pause or stop) this conversation. that a highlighted and brutal event broadened our scope of horror towards gun violence in our country was inevitable. that it didn't happen again today only means we are lucky.

has anything changed yet?

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part six)

ed: thanks to sarah for giving this place a delightful dose of mom's perspective last night. 

amy, katie, and i were out to lunch celebrating their birthday yesterday. i had been at the store, disconnected from the world 'til then. at some point during the meal, i checked my phone.

sarah had linked to the first story i'd seen of the shooting.

her comment was simple and profound, "this is horrifying..."

for the rest of the meal, our attention was divided. we talked about going to see a movie but ended up back at my house, eyes glued to cnn, our mouths agape.

i thumbed through twitter, constantly refreshing for reaction and new information. it was a trainwreck. we couldn't look away.

for the rest of their lives, one of the most tragic days in the history of our country will be remembered on the same day as their birthday.

on some level, that makes me sad for them.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part four)


one of the phone calls i made to sarah today found her crying on the other end.

"you're crying?", i asked.

i knew why she was crying. it's because a classroom full of children kissed their mommies and daddies earlier this morning, smiled on their way out the door, and then had their lives taken from them by a crazy person.

the idea of those scared children, being shot and killed in what should have been the safe haven of their classroom will be a haunting nightmare to me, sarah, and every parent with a beating heart tonight. and then likely the next night. and the next. and the next. and the next. and for as long as it takes to shake the idea that this could've been our children. who knows how long that will take. longer than your typical news cycle.

here's why this conversation, this gun conversation, this something needs to happen now with a quickness needs to happen today.

because there is nothing in place that would prevent this from happening tomorrow. in another town. to another group of innocent children or adults.

nothing.

wrapping my head around that idea makes me want to shit myself.

what if we wait 'til tomorrow when we could've done something different. something better for the greater good. but we dragged our feet due to some arbitrarily set time of mourning. what then?

more death is okay?

that's pretty a fucked idea.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part three)


there seems to be three areas of pushback at folks like me that don't agree with the idea that gun control should be one of the primary thoughts this evening.

"it's too soon. give it some time to breathe. today should be a day of mourning."

"guns don't kill people. people kill people. what? do you want to ban cars, too, since drunk driving kills many, many more people than guns?"

"jesus, come back. it's time."

to the first sentiment, i respect it. there are people of this earth that are genuinely sharing their worry and concern and prayer with those directly affected by the gunmen today. the world needs those people. i need those people. i am thankful those people exist. sometimes, i wish i was one of those people.

moving on....

to the second sentiment. if you can logically correlate an act of intentional gun violence with the unintended consequences of a drunk driver, you should own neither a gun or a car. and you scare me. people with guns kill people. people with knives kill fewer people. people with a blunt objects kill fewer people. people who drink and drive are a plague, but, again, their intent is not to kill another. their bad decision may, in fact, have dreadful consequences, but it is not the same. today gave us a coincidental comparison of two madmen. one in connecticut with a gun. one in beijing with a knife. the numbers were eerily similar. the one with knife sent children home or to the hospital injured, scarred physically and emotionally, and possibly traumatized for a long, long time. the one with the guns sent children home dead. dead, dead. children, man.

to the third. come on, man?! evil isn't more prevalent now than ever before. we just get to hear about it all. jesus is back, y'all. his idea and his ideals allegedly live within us all. wishing him to come back is a cop out. he's here. and he's likely very sad right along with the rest of us. so, what are we going to do about it?

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part two)


i always look forward to fajita friday. for the food. for the company. for the conversation. on days like today,  it's a lot of fun and very fulfilling to sound back and forth with my brother-in-law, joseph.

some of what follows may have been talked about around the table tonight, and some may have just brewed over the course of processing the day's events and the reaction to the event.

it is my opinion that there is no better day to talk about the shooting or shootings that have happened and will happen than the day of the shootings. what better time to focus on the issue that is close to your heart than when it has your undivided attention? the over-saturation of our country, world, etc. with guns is something that i think about almost daily. but there are days that those thoughts are clouded or divided by other thoughts like my falcons or bobby petrino or work or family or how terrible cancer is or how atrocious chemo can be or american horror story or the walking dead or dark knight rises or you get my point.

today, from lunchtime on, i thought about the tragedy in newtown. i absorbed every bit of that i could. i cried at the horrifying thought that it could have been my caroline's kindergarten classroom. i prayed selfish prayers of thanksgiving that it wasn't. i wished good thoughts towards the families of the victims. i didn't think of anything else. well, barely anything else. it was a couple of my best friends' birthdays. they got some of my attention.

but the thought of that fucker having four guns and the thought that our country refuses to take a more intentional stance about the easy access to those weapons made me so, so fucking mad i couldn't stand it.

i still can't.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part one)


this is probably going to fail miserably, but too many of my thoughts about today and the massacre in connecticut are longer than 140 characters, and people are too easily annoyed on facebook if they aren't interested in an opinion that differs from their own, so i am going to try a little micro-blogging and see if it inspires something more long-formish later down the road.