It is difficult to write about something you do understand.
I do not understand the problem we have with police shooting people, and people murdering police. And disturbed or inflamed or deranged people mass murdering people in very closed quarters, fish in a barrel.
I do not understand making your very own personal bomb, putting it into a backpack and leaving it to explode on a jammed city street.
I urge my kids to be optimistic, not pessimistic. Hopeful about their friends and their future and the adventures they are pursuing and have laid out for themselves.
I run out of words for my kids.
I am going to walk my dog and breathe a little. Think a little more about the vagaries and, yes I will try, the blessings of life. Picture in my head the Dallas officers down and hear again the shotgun blasts ringing through the downtown center.
It IS a wonderful life — except when it is horrifying, terrifying and unfathomably evil.
I’m sorry to be that way.
I just don’t understand.
I