Category Archives: Uncategorized

That’s my business…

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That’s my business…

Today I met a client who used the word “fuck” as a noun, a verb and an adjective. She switched tenses with the finesse of a linguistic ninja, it was spectacular. The fact that this person is an ordained minister is the icing on the cake. I love my job.

I started a small business in 2014. I basically fill in the gaps for people when life gets complicated. My usual clients are elderly and they need a little TLC. I check in on them while their adult children work – share a meal, do some light housekeeping and socialize. I am the eyes and ears for loved ones when they can’t be there.

I’ve visited clients in their own home and I’ve been the jail break conspirator for nursing home residents. I used to visit a 97 year old man who was in a nursing home. Twice a week I would take him out for lunch at Chick-fil-A and each time he acted like it was the best meal of his life. It’s incredibly rewarding to be the best part of someone’s day….even if they don’t always remember the details. My lunch date never could get my name straight but he always leapt out of the day room chair when he saw me. He walked across the room with a happy purpose in his stride and a wide smile planted on his face. One time around the holidays, I told my nonagenarian (great Scrabble word) friend that he looked “festive”. He replied – “Did you say I look sexy?” to which I said “I sure did, John” with a wink. These are golden moments.

It isn’t always so fun and carefree. There are always medical concerns lurking in the background, potential embarrassing moments and the sad realization that this friendship likely won’t last that long. I used to visit Eleanore, she was 88 and had severe dementia. One day I came in for my usual lunch visit and she wasn’t wearing pants….how do you handle that you ask? I said “Eleanore, you didn’t tell me it was no pants Monday” and I promptly got her dressed. I always look for ways to add humor and preserve a person’s dignity. If someone doesn’t want to be checked on I’ll tell them I’m there to walk the dog or do laundry, we a find a way to make it work.

The saddest situation I have encountered was Ted, a man in his mid fifties with Early-onset Alzheimer’s. His wife worked full time and needed someone to check on him during the day, feed him lunch and tidy up. This man used to be an Engineer. He was well educated, had a brilliant career and then it all came crashing down way too soon. They had one kid in high school and another in college. His wife amazed me. She also had a puppy because you need that chaos as a distraction from the hard stuff. On the good days, I took Ted and the dog for a walk around the neighborhood. We had to be careful of Ted wandering out of the house when no one was there. I suggested cameras and safety locks but he still managed to escape a few times. Eventually it was no longer safe for Ted to be home and he had to go into a memory care center. That one still haunts me.

One of my earliest and favorite clients recently passed away. Pam reached out to me because she was recovering from an injury and needed some help. She was young somewhere around 60 and had a little dog that needed to be walked twice a day along with other odds and ends like shopping, opening jars, rides to the doctor and anything else she needed. We became friends and the lines for work and friendship blurred. Trips to the doctor turned into social outings of movies, lunch and Marshall’s. We remained friends after my services were no longer needed and I was heartbroken when she died suddenly last June.

I meet most of my clients through a friend or family member. My business is based exclusively on referrals as I do not do any advertising. I tend to have one or two clients at a time because I can serve them better that way. The family dynamics vary with each client but they all love their family member and are so grateful to find reliable help. They each hold a special place in my heart and I am honored to be entrusted with their care.

 

 

 

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The Pedophile Next-door

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The Pedophile Next-door

When I was in my late 20’s I lived in an apartment across the street from the Atlantic Ocean in Central, New Jersey. It was an amazing time. I was newly single, young, ambitious and full of energy. I worked hard. I had a full time job, a part time job and college courses. I was disciplined and stayed focused on my goals. I recognized that I had the time and energy in this phase of life and that things would likely change at some point, so I persevered.

Somehow, I managed to find time for a social life and I made some close friends. Many of which I’m still in contact with today, some 20 years later. We would celebrate birthdays together, take turns hosting parties, we went dancing in clubs and roller bladed together on Friday nights. It was a time I look back at with fondness. It’s a mid/late twenties I would want for my kids a dozen years from now. Those memories got somewhat tainted this weekend.

I got a Facebook message from one of my close friends from that time period. She informed me that she had some gossip that I would be interested in. I didn’t see the message for a few hours and when I did two people entered my mind….one was an ex-boyfriend who I found out did time in federal prison for embezzlement…the other was my old neighbor, Paul. I’ll save the ex for another post.

Paul lived in the apartment above mine and he was a bit of an odd duck. He would never confirm his age but we had him pegged at least ten years older than the rest of us. He worked for the government as an Engineer and was also going to grad school. He was from Ireland and had lived in the United States for a large chunk of his life. He had a sister that was married with a couple of kids and a mom that drifted between Ireland and the US. While we were neighbors, he introduced me to a couple of his girlfriends. None of those relationships lasted very long, a few months at most.

He threw off a creepy vibe which was hard to pinpoint. Several of us thought he was possibly gay and not ready to come out. However, he would also leer at me and other females sometimes which was awkward and puzzling. He made suggestive comments at times that I just brushed off. It wasn’t ever going to happen. There were also plenty of times when we had interesting conversations. He was an intelligent, creative person with varied interests and lots of friends. He wasn’t all bad.

After hearing from our mutual friend, I googled his name and read a link to a newspaper article. Paul was arrested last month for viewing and sharing pornographic images of children. I don’t know if he has ever touched a child in an inappropriate way, I don’t have any further information. It’s just sickening and disheartening for those children and their families. This is a crime and an impulse that I just can not wrap my brain around. It is so destructive and vile.

As much as I hate the crime, I took a moment to think of the criminal. This person was kind to me on many occasions. I considered him a friend all those years ago. And while I knew there was something off, I chalked it off as not urgent. Was he acting out then? Did he harm his nieces? Was he abused as a child? Questions that will likely never get answered.

 

Making the Bed…..

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Making the Bed…..

As a midlifer, I have finally decided to start making the bed on a consistent,  nearly daily basis. Now I have shirked this responsibility for decades minus the rare occasion when guests were stopping by and even then, I was a keep visitors to the first floor kind of gal.

I’ve had some decent reasons for not making the bed mind you. One being, I’m not the last one in bed in the morning. The hubs sleeps later than me 99.9% of the time. I have a rule that states the person to stay in bed the longest has to make it. So I guess he hasn’t been making the bed for the past 20 years, tsk tsk. I should note that I haven’t clearly explained this rule more than 3 times so it may have slipped his mind.

The real reason for not making the bed, it’s simply not a priority. I don’t care if it’s unmade most of the time so why bother. I realize I may have wounded a few people with that last bit so let’s pause here for a deep breathe. OK, we all have different priorities so let’s just move along. So why on earth have I decided to make the bed now?

My husband commented about beds being made a few times this year. Honestly he’s probably mentioned it consistently over the past 20 years and I just slid it to the back burner of my brain. I mean, if he felt that strongly about it, nothing was stopping him from making it, right? So why now?

Why indeed? Well I guess after a couple of decades together you still need to find ways to surprise your partner. Trust me it gets tricky to keep things fresh. We still enjoy each other’s company (wink) so that isn’t the issue – I just wanted to find other ways to show him I still care. Making the bed is different for us, it takes just a sliver of effort and is something tangible.

So my new routine started about a month ago….it coincided with the purchase of some pillows and a new comforter. Perhaps the guilt of indulging on those items also propelled me. My good deed did not go unnoticed. After about 2 weeks my husband commented. He acknowledged that the bed was being made and that he liked it. Then he said I should vacuum more. This my friends, is why half of marriages end in divorce.

 

*Not our actual bed in the photo. Plucked from the web and to date, unable to identify the photographer for proper credit.

 

 

 

Alternate Universe

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Alternate Universe

I’ve managed to create this nice little alternate universe for myself via my blog. I have a handful of in the flesh friends that know about it, but not many. My blog followers, select few that you are, have come here like a gift from the blogosphere (that’s a legit word). I get a slight tingle when I see a new country highlighted in the WordPress stats. Today someone from Japan read one of my posts. No idea how or why they got here but isn’t that cool? I’m in Pennsylvania, typing away and someone in Japan just wandered in. It’s fascinating to me probably because at my age, I can still remember when none of this was possible.

For those of us over 30 (OK well over if you’re going to get particular about it) doesn’t it blow your mind how much technology has changed in the past 20 years. How much more will change in the next 20 years? I suspect we will have autonomous flying cars, artificial intelligence that can learn beyond human capability and a staggering unemployment issue and oh yes, Mars isn’t off the table – thanks Elon Musk.

What are we losing with all of this technological advancement? Do we have to lose something, is that required? I don’t know but I have observed a some things that concern me – instant gratification, loss of privacy and a lack of creativity and freedom.

I have two kids a tween and a teen. They have reasonable restrictions on device time. There are no devices allowed in their bedroom at night. For one kid it wouldn’t even be an issue as he doesn’t care at all. My daughter, on the other hand,would be up all night on Instagram, chatting with friends, making bad musically videos and would be busy not sleeping.

The ability to text, tweet, post and communicate instantaneously has helped to create a generation that expects instant gratification. Midlifers, remember when we would call our best friend in 5th grade on the corded phone on a table or attached to the wall? The phone was always located in some public space in your house and you had to push down on buttons or worse, stick your finger in the circle of the corresponding numbers to spin the phone wheel and call? And, gasp, sometimes no one answered or the phone was busy so you had to try to call them again later and move on with your 10 year old life. Kids don’t do that today. They rarely have to wait more than a few minutes to hear back from a friend and if they don’t hear back immediately, a bit of panic sets in. It’s kind of crazy.

I remember being bored plenty as a kid and I would go outside or write in a journal. We had to make up our own games to pass the time and if we were lucky we got some local kids to join in. We played spontaneously and we figured stuff out. You didn’t like everyone and everyone didn’t like you but you could usually make it work long enough for some variation of tag or cops and robbers. I don’t see that much where we live, sure it happens but it’s special when it does because it isn’t the norm. The usual here is organized activities and sports.

Kids aren’t off the leash much either these days. We need to know where they are all the time because there are bad people out there (and no sh*t, there really are bad people out there). Hell there are sneakers with tracking devices in them now….it’s kind of like Little Johnny is on house arrest or maybe block arrest. Their expectations for privacy are at the bare minimum. They don’t want you to walk in on them while they’re getting changed but most anticipate some level of monitoring of their electronic activities. Late 70’s and early 80’s kids wouldn’t stand for that. We kept our stuff private and if someone read our journal there was hell to pay. Our parents didn’t know where we were half the time and we couldn’t be tracked with a Find My Phone app. If they asked where we were we would either tell them or make up something that sounded reasonable. It was kind of awesome.

Here’s a little something to make you laugh, courtesy of YouTube

 

 

 

The Tipping Point

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The Tipping Point

Charlottesville was the tipping point for me. I watched the Vice video which opened with a parade of angry looking white men carrying torches, shouting “Jews will not replace us!” “Blood and Soil!” “Whose Streets? Our Streets!”Here’s the link in case you missed it – https://news.vice.com/story/vice-news-tonight-full-episode-charlottesville-race-and-terror

I will admit that the sinister music playing in the background added to the fear and severe disgust I experienced while watching it and I’m a white Christian. I can only imagine the horror that a minority would feel watching that. I wept for my friends for whom this hate was directed, I wept for all of us. I thought we were further along than this, we are not. The fact that I didn’t realize how bad it is….that is shameful in itself and I own that.

In the days that followed I saw a post on Facebook by an acquaintance. The post used white letters and a black background and asked something like – Has anyone lost sleep over statues in public squares? Not just now, ever?

Now I have stayed out of most of the political fray with the exception of some occasional low level snark. This wasn’t even political in my opinion, he just asked a question. I thought about my reply…it went something like this – “I have not personally lost sleep over a statue in a public square. That said, I can see where having to pass by a statue of someone who died trying to keep slavery intact would be hurtful to a person of color. Imagine being the ancestor of slaves and having to pass that every day on your way to work, school or home. I do lose sleep over the fractured state that our country is in.”

Things declined from there. The man who made the original post went on and on about art and artists and honestly I wasn’t sure if he was joking. And commented. “I’m not sure if you are joking – too soon.” Then I unfollowed him. I did post about my new found love of the unfollow button on my page and signed off to go to bed. Unbeknownst to me, this infuriated the man that made the original post.

The next morning when I logged on I could smell ash and smoke from a night gone terribly wrong on my Facebook page. The comments had been deleted by then but there were some cryptic messages from a few participants in the prior evenings rant. This man made the unfortunate choice to go after me on my own Facebook page. Foolish on his part since he is a local business man. I wasn’t present but a small army of mom friends had my back and held this person accountable. When he tried to attack me personally, they shut him down. When he tried to argue his worldview, he was outed as a sympathizer of white supremacy. Things got ugly quickly despite the fact that I wasn’t even present to argue with him.

Now I suppose I could have just scrolled and rolled on his original post. However, this was after Charlottesville, my tipping point. Silence is complicit and that is no longer an option for me. I’m not sure what my next moves will be – protests, posts, one on one discussions, etc. I do know this though, I will not be silent.

 

*photo credit to The Boston Globe.

 

My Monkey is a Prairie Dog

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My Monkey is a Prairie Dog

I attended my first Writer’s Digest Conference this past weekend in New York City. It was an interesting mix of topics ranging from improving your craft to branding and more. Lots of options for newbies and veterans alike.

I noticed a recurring theme with the variety of sessions that I attended. Writers were consistent in their suggestion to the audience members to “find your own voice”, be authentic, use your personal experiences to filter through your writing. The business end was more cautious – be authentic but not so much that you lose market share. Sigh…mixed messages. Be authentic…..BUT…..everyone knows anything after BUT is bullshit. Guess I’ll just keep offending people and not make money writing for now….double sigh.

One workshop was titled “Shut Your Monkey! How to Control Your Inner Critic and Get More Writing Done.” It was facilitated by Danny Gregory. He wrote a book about it in case you are so inclined….https://www.amazon.com/Shut-Your-Monkey-Control-Critic/dp/1440341133

It was an interesting topic which sadly afflicts a majority of humans. That inner voice that says you suck, you’re stupid, are you really going to eat that? The asshole that lives inside your head and spreads doubt like pixie dust in a Disney movie. Apparently most humans (except psychopaths) have this negative voice that we constantly shush. Danny Gregory calls his a monkey…..I prefer to think of mine as a prairie dog. I never know where that bitch is going to pop up. She’s kind of cute and kind of annoying and damn unpredictable. What’s your monkey?

No Paper Thin Skin

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No Paper Thin Skin

The other day I posted this on my Facebook Page:

“Informal Poll – If your kid went to a dairy farm camp and they (along with a friend) decided to name their cow “Burger” would that be considered funny or disturbing? Asking for a friend….”

Most of my FB friends thought it was funny. Except one person who wrote this:

“Are they prepared to butcher and eat it?That would be the difference between ” for real/funny” and “removed/ callous”. If my kid were in the first category, I would be immensely proud because I think we all need to own our shit, and as a parent and teacher, our kids NEVER own their shit because we have failed and created “snowflakes in climate change”!”

And with that the levity and humor was sucked out of my post. I know the person who wrote that and I like that person. I still do. It kept nagging at me though so I decided to put in under my mental microscope to take a look.

First, the use of NEVER is non starter for me. I point out my kid’s errors on a daily basis. I don’t consider myself a maker of snowflakes but perhaps that is like the crazy person who can’t see their crazy. To say someone NEVER does something would actually take some serious effort at consistency. Doesn’t apply, let it fly.

Then I focused on the term callous and that’s what got under my skin like a splinter you can’t quite get regardless of the tweezers and incessant picking. Then I came to the realization that my kid needs to be a little calloused. The fact that she is showing some grit in a humorous way actually puts us in the plus column.

Don’t get me wrong I don’t want to raise assholes. I’m not looking to groom my kids into soulless androids that put themselves first 100% of the time. I also don’t want them to have paper thin skin that can tear at butterfly breezes.  Once again it’s all about balance….and growing some calluses.

 

 

Mourning the Living

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Mourning the Living

Grief isn’t just for the recently deceased. Sometimes it’s for those we must purposely leave behind. We’ve all experienced it at some point….a bad break up, a friendship that can’t weather a bad storm, or a relative that is doing more harm than good. Grief paints with a broad brush.

Anger is my emotion of choice when dealing with the hard stuff. Some would call it a crutch, a better description is a shield. It protects me from the deeper, darker emotions that come from grieving the still living. My shield is past it’s expiration and the wear and tear is breaking it down, leaving me with profound sorrow.

Perhaps you have been there. Maybe you’ve experienced a relationship so broken or toxic that it is beyond repair. That’s the spot I’m in right now. The fact that it involves a parent, makes it especially harsh. So many missed opportunities for myself and my children, displaced by someone who is either incapable or unwilling to care. It’s sad and I need to allow myself a moment to acknowledge that.

Grieving the living is tricky business because it is ultimately a choice. It may be the most healthy, sane choice you can make for yourself. Self preservation doesn’t come cheap. I have spent years trying to fight the undertow of my mother’s mental illness. The constant tug to take me under while I continue to tread water is causing my head to bob up and down. It’s at my chin now and I refuse to go under any further. That leaves me with one option, to pluck myself out of the water and walk away.

Sleepy Town No More

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Sleepy Town No More

They’re searching for bodies on a farm 3 miles from my house. This doesn’t happen in Solebury. Four young men are missing, ages 19 to 22. One has been gone for a week and the other 3 are missing for several days now. It’s awful and it’s all anyone can talk about. A community obsessed with the latest coverage. We collectively drive by the search site, taken back by the presence of local and national news vans that now dot the shoulders of a usually passive Route 202. We follow the DA’s updates and press conference with rapt attention. Anxiously awaiting something, anything that will tell us that it was all a big mistake, the boys are fine, you can go back to your regularly scheduled summer activities. That hasn’t happened and it won’t. God only knows what will get unearthed on that farm.

To say this is unusual here is an understatement. This part of Bucks County is pretty homogeneous – mostly liberal, white collar and well educated. I have often joked about the lack of diversity in this area we have white and gay white with few exceptions. We have crime here – burglaries, some drugs, DUIs and the occasional insurance fraud. Murder is not something that happens on the regular here. A good chunk of the local population has moved here from New Jersey or New York mostly for the favorable taxes and a good school district. We aren’t unaware of how the rest of the world is we just found ourselves in a bubble believing that it’s a great place to raise kids. We are less sure of our choices now.

Fast-forward a few days and the facts are unraveling in the most horrible way. A 12.5-foot deep grave was discovered with the help of cadaver dogs on loan from the FBI. The remains of three of the missing men were located in a tank in the deep grave. Dean Finocchiaro (19) was the first to be identified. It took longer to identify the remains of the other two occupants – Tom Meo (21) and Mark Sturgis (22).

The fourth victim to be found and identified was the first to go missing. Jimi Patrick (19) was found in a separate location on another part of the 80-acre farm. The location of Mr. Patrick was given in exchange for taking the death penalty off the table for Cosmo DiNardo. According to reports, the DA, Matt Weintraub, conferred with the families of the then missing men before going forward with the arrangement. Some people are outraged by this deal and I understand their anger. It is just so rare to see the death penalty actually utilized. I think Mr. Weintraub made the best decision under the worst of circumstances.

There’s also a swarm of rumors buzzing about on social media. The one with the most intrique is that these missing men were witnesses to a beating in May near the Temple campus in Philly. Billy Riddle, the person charged with the assault that nearly killed a young man for seemingly no reason except that he had the misfortune of crossing paths, is rumored to have set up a hit on these young men.

Rumor has it that Cosmo DiNardo owed Billy Riddle some money over drug deals and getting rid of the beating witnesses would clear his debt. I have no idea if there is even a whiff of truth to this. I suspect at this point if it were true we would be hearing about it. As it stands now, that hasn’t come up in the handful of press conferences that have taken place.

Other rumors are that the DiNardo family is in the mob. The name ends in a vowel, proximity to Philly, his parents own a construction company and they have vast acreage with backhoes and other equipment. People draw their own conclusions and imaginations are ripe with possibilities real or not. I’ve also heard people speculate that Cosmo is a serial killer. I guess time will tell. He without a doubt is responsible for the deaths of 4 young men, who knows if there are others.

The actual story that is being reported is less Hollywood and acutely more senseless. Apparently, three separate drug deals were made and the men were shot on the property in three separate incidents. Mr. Patrick was the first to be killed. He was meeting with DiNardo to purchase pot and was shot and buried by DiNardo. In this case DiNardo acted alone seemingly because the deal changed to something less favorable.

Two days later the same fate was met by Mr. Finocchiaro in a barn on the property. This time his cousin, Sean Kratz, accompanied DiNardo. Kratz and DiNardo disagree on who fired the first shot at Finocciaro but DiNardo admits to firing a second shot when the victim was on the ground.

Later that same day, Mr. Meo and Mr. Sturgis met the same fate as the other two. They were lured to the property for a drug transaction and were quickly shot when they exited DiNardo’s truck. It’s been reported that Mr. Sturgis was running away when he was shot having just witnessed his best friend Mr. Meo get shot. It’s also been noted that Mr. Meo was run over by the back hoe to make sure he was dead as the killers ran out of ammunition.

The bodies of the three victims killed on July 7th were transferred to a tank and DiNardo and Kratz attempted to burn them. The next day the tank was placed in a 12.5 deep grave, which was dug by a backhoe that resided on the property. Sometime that weekend a ping from Mr. Finocciaro’s cell phone set the investigation in motion. The discovery of Mr. Meo’s car on another local property also owned by the DiNardo family gave investigators enough reason to search the farm diligently.

Cosmo DiNardo and his cousin Sean Kratz both face multiple counts in relation to the four murders including robbery, abuse of a corpse and conspiracy. They are both being held without bail and a preliminary hearing is scheduled for July 31st. As a community we are relieved that they are locked up.

There is a cloud of sadness, anger and devastation hanging over this usually bucolic location. We are a community of mourners, still collecting facts and speculating over the rumors. Wondering how it all went down in our back yard unbeknownst to us. Our sleepy little town has been awakened in the most jarring and gruesome way.

 

 

The Raging Spinning Globe

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The Raging Spinning Globe

People are still freaking out over the election and Christmas is around the corner. The energy in the air is a mix of enraged mob and desperately trying to be cheerful. I have a theory about all this anger.

Anger has been my emotion of choice since I was a kid although I wasn’t aware of this preference before the age of 15. You see for me anger is a replacement for fear and despair. When your choices are anger, fear and despair, then anger is the best of the bunch. Anger gives you energy and can dismantle the sobbing tears that lead to headaches and snot face. Anger gives you wings and a bullhorn when the other options leave you in the fetal position or crying into your pillow in the deepest corner of your darkest closet. Of course anger is appealing, we can feel self righteous and get loud. It’s not our fault. Anger almost always comes with a big middle finger pointing at someone else, perhaps a situation beyond our control. Maybe it’s a president elect, the PTA, your boss, your spouse, the @sshole in car line that won’t move up 3 feet like a rational human being – the list is endless.

I’m not saying there aren’t valid reasons for being angry. Of course there are millions of reasons to be pissed off but is that the only emotion? I don’t think so. Even the schmuck that cuts you off on the way to work may deserve more than a flash of anger perhaps there was some fear there as well? How about forgiveness or the benefit of the doubt? Maybe that person just flaked out because they have a lot going on – sick kid, pending divorce, dickish boss?  The point is you can make up an excuse for them and chose a different reaction something other than crude hand gestures and an angry horn.

Recently a School Board member in my town posted a sarcastic Facebook Post on his personal page. In case you haven’t figured this out yet – there is no such thing as a “personal” Facebook Page – categorize that with unicorns and the Tooth Fairy, does not exist. Anyhow, the post was calling out the people wearing safety pins….basically the post ripped on that kind of activism the term “slactivist jack ass” was used. People here are losing their shit over that post. I suspect many of them wear safety pins as a sign of solidarity to perceived minorities or people that may be in danger of racism, sexism and discrimination of some sort. This guy had a different opinion about the usefulness of the safety pin and people are pissed.

It’s interesting to me how the peace loving, safety pin wearing sensitive types are taking their rage out on this individual (and his family). The last school board meeting had the markings of a Salem Witch Trial. The man in question opened the meeting with an apology for the post and clearly stated what he did and did not mean. That was not enough. People were chanting for him to resign, at least one attendee had a sign with “resign”on it, some wanted him disbarred, one lady was tossed from the meeting for being disruptive. It made the local news, sigh.  Many in the crowd wanted this man to suffer on some level. Apparently enduring the public outrage and humiliation were not enough to satiate the majority.

So here we are at the point where a person can not make a stupid, snarky comment without having the wrath of an angry mob on him. It’s sad to me. I don’t know this individual personally but he has volunteered hundreds if not thousands of hours to our community. His voting record on the school board matches what most parents want for our district and here we are with angry chants, no tolerance and no forgiveness.

Here is  another problem…. Many of the people that are angry with this man that they don’t personally know….. well they don’t actually know how the School Board works. Some commented they resented paying his salary (um, he’s a volunteer so no salary). Others blasted the Superintendent for not forcing a resignation. Pssst…..lean in a little….the SI reports to the School Board, not the other way around…..so the SI can not actually make a School Board Director resign. Facts shmacts burn him at the stake!

For the love of GAWD people tuck in your ignorance before you go off on a rant. Check the facts, know the circumstances, hesitate before posting that comment and forming a lynch mob. Can we look at the whole person and not just the 37 words that pissed you off? It just seems that people want or need to be angry at someone or something so they gravitate towards what’s close. Maybe they pick the battles they think they can win? Something that feels personal? I don’t know what the answer is, maybe awareness is a start? Just seems like we are all on one raging spinning globe of hate right now.

I want to take a break from anger. Fighting anger with anger is like pinning two poisons against each other….no one wins and we all feel a little sick after. I want to fight it with cheer and kindness. Random acts of good that surprise even the crumpiest among us. Sprinkle that shit like pixie dust all around so people are lost in a glittery fog of good intentions. It feels good, better than anger, fear or despair, I promise.