Might this tragedy be the one to shift our nation’s stance toward guns? It’d be the silver lining, right? If our will pushes actual, meaningful gun control… that would be… something. There is no equation available that makes what happened somehow okay in exchange for a safer world going forward, even though we can only invest in that goal, now. We can’t undo.
If we opened the conversation further—beyond dramatic stories that shock us in malls and schools, we’d remember that gun violence is a daily threat to many children in this country. And we’d do something—more than something, lots of things—to help ensure that every child in this country is safe every day, safe to walk to school and play outside after school, free to learn and grow up, and have access to what we call basics: healthy food, health care, adult supervision, and meaningful education.
That’s what’s been on my mind.
Gratitude and noting good things happens all the time, even when you are taking two-tiered systems to task. In my twenties, when I worked as a political organizer, pretty often I just felt mad—or maybe that was developmental (for me) and during my twenties I just felt mad for stretches. I don’t feel that now. I feel grateful even when I’m mad. I just do. I can’t even help it.
Like this morning: I’m grateful for friendships that have spanned ages and stages and still bring me “home” in the way of deeply being known and knowing. I’m grateful that I have a strong willingness to practice—and that I find practice, or process, engaging. I also found something to put on my winter-swollen fingers, which appears to heal them—and winter doesn’t begin officially until later this week; it’s as if I’m all-set from the get-go. Take that, cursed winter (I am not a fan, not really).
Oh, lastly, Remy and I wrote a letter to President Obama yesterday. I then copied the text and emailed it to our other representatives. It felt like the tiny something I needed to remind me you take one step before you take another step.
Three to share:
Michael Winerip spoke to a first grade teacher about first graders’ perspectives on life.
Quentin Blake—the masterful artist and entertainer—turns 80.
It’s out and I am told it will be mine soon (I didn’t buy it fast enough): the Nashville soundtrack has a life of its own (note that I may not agree with the article’s description of the show, which I love to pieces). My plan during its month-long hiatus is to watch this entire season to date of Parenthood.
