Scary stuff.....

In the morning newspaper…

Usually can’t wait for the sound of the paper to hit the driveway (well, hell, that’s not actually true.. Got behind in my bill a bit many moons ago, ‘fore too long, didn’t hear that sound. Sooooooooo, I drive to Mickey D’s, they have free ones!)


Anyways, I am in the “can’t wait’ mode to read, grasp, learn, keep up… and then I read crap, and I think “WHY? Why am I in sucha hurry this day, and any day - to read this crap?

After struggling thru “woman impaled on wrought-iron fence” and “two youths drown at FCA camp in Iowa".. On the application to camp, parents had written “Can’t swim” for each. 19 lifeguards - youths found at bottom of pool around 10:30pm, both.

Geez…

And then, the most revolting: Billy Roper is a write-in candidate for governor of Arkansas and an unapologetic white nationalist. “I don’t want non-whites in my country in any form or fashion or any status,” he says........ Are you serious? Isn’t this 2010? Wtf?

I suppose it’s a good thing I was born Caucasian, for I’d probably be dead now from fighting back. Unfortunately, I’m old enough to have seen some ugly stuff - but will never quite get the full picture from the shoes of the ones discriminated against.

A friend so eloquently put it: “Sometimes I take the view of "The world is going to hell in a handbasket". ...many times, it just makes me sad..Man's inequities towards man...or woman...I don't know what makes people tick...How can we place ourselves above others?...what makes us think that the plight of any living person is of less importance/value than our own? "Can't we all just get along?"

So, I needed a ‘feel good’.. Out and about into real life to see if “does life really look like it does from Mr. Roper’s shoes?”…..

The Kansas City - City Market. Ahhhh.. A genuine breath of fresh air, in the fresh air. Good gosh, folks of every descent. Every skin tone. Virtually every language. Size, shape, age, religious belief, religious non-belief, orientation.. And it was working. It does work. It can work. Thank you Kansas City. With no apologies for my French, FYVM Mr. Roper.

I/we walk daily with the thought of telling a vet, “thank you.” I almost feel the urge to tell anyone I fear might have ever been discriminated against “I’m sorry.”

Fortunately, good outweighs bad - but life still leaves us shaking our head upon occasion.
Love, Victurd