Freedom of Voice

I just arrived home after serving as a judge at the Lee County Schools History Fair. Normally, the thought of waking up at 5:15 on a Saturday morning would make me a little cranky, but I was actually looking forward to watching and judging the performances. I am so glad I did. I left feeling inspired and hopeful. On my drive home, I started a mental checklist of all the things I needed to do when I got home: walk the dog finish the laundry I started Monday (yes, Monday--you know how I feel about laundry) start laundry again since my hamper is nearly full again empty the dishwasher wipe down my kitchen cabinets make the guest bedroom bed (our guests left Sunday) clean the lanai dust clean the bathrooms vacuum/dry mop the floors (especially my bathroom floor which has the equivalent of a head of hair scattered all over--I seem to have a shedding problem these days) go to the grocery store make a Target run workout proof my son's resume write a letter to the condo a...

Last week, I wrote about how children should be seen AND heard , how the adults in their lives need to stop, look, and listen to their messages--those they verbalize and those sent by behaviors. I didn't know at that time 17 people--most of them kids--would lose their lives in a few days. The videos that followed this latest mass shooting were terrifying. Kids recording the bloodbath taking place outside their classroom doors. Rapid gun fire. Screams of horror. The S.W.A.T. team busting into a room and telling the kids to put their hands up. One kid's hands are shaking uncontrollably in that video. I can't get that image out of my head. God, I wanted to jump through my screen and hug that kid, promise him or her it will be OK. But, that's a lie. It's not OK. It won't be OK. Until someone listens and acts upon the pleas. Of course, the adults are talking. Some begging for change in policy. Others claiming now is a time to mourn, not jump to conclusion...

"Children should be seen and not heard —a phrase I heard so much as a child, it became a part of me. I internalized it. Believed it.  Until now that is. It took me years to realize that phrase—viewed as innocuous by my parents and their peer group—is code for you don’t matter; no one is interested in what you have to say." These are the first few lines of a novel I started this summer. One I have neglected for a few months. I would like to think I'm just sitting on it, letting it percolate as my friend Laurie would say, but that's a lie. I'm stuck. Stalled. Afraid. But, that's another story for another post. That phrase-- Children should be seen and not heard --is a dangerous one, one that keeps victims voiceless, powerless.  Case in point: Dr. Larry Nassar and his insidious abuse of hundreds of young women under his care. The world was watching those girls, seeing them. But, who was hearing them? They were ignored, led like lambs to slaugh...

I don't know what brought the phrase, "Life's a bitch, and then you die" into the forefront of my mind this morning. I really haven't heard it or thought about it since high school in the late 80's. It's not a mantra I choose to live by--a little too pessimistic for my tastes. And, it feels like a cop-out. But, you know what? Sometimes it also feels like the right sentiment. When I was younger, I was overly optimistic and idealistic. I expected things to go right, to work out perfectly. I was beside myself when things went wrong, dramatizing every little inconvenience into an event of catastrophic proportions. And then, Life happened. Knowing I wouldn't survive the "real world" in Sally Sunshine mode, that bitch molded me into a cautiously optimistic woman with enough of a cynical edge to survive the hardships she doles out, sometimes in quick succession. At times, it has felt as if Life held my head under water  until I was just abou...