Some Random Photos

Because I didn’t pull out an entertaining and interesting image for any of the other blurbs in this post. (Sorry.)

Sharks are infamous for the feeding frenzy. They smell blood, and they lose control. All their instincts go on high alert. They turn into a finely tuned hunting machine, with one goal, to eat the kill.

Other animals, too, have their frenzies. The predator hunts, and the prey runs. Instinct tells them to panic, and that’s exactly what they do. The adrenaline pumps. The muscles engage. All of the creature’s strength and brain power directs itself toward one goal, whether to kill or to avoid being killed.

And humans are no different.

He smiled over his Sunday morning oatmeal, plain and steaming, his grapefruit cut into halves. Smiled with his eyes. Gotta remember, always with the eyes.

“That’s your problem,” pointing at his wife’s sausage and pancakes, drenched with syrup.

“And that’s yours!” She pointed back, at his grapefruit, her well-rounded face slinging condemnation.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to get up off your ass once in a while, either, and exercise.” He suddenly realized he was no longer smiling. Remember, always with the eyes.

“Always bet on stupidity.”

I heard that quote last week on a classic episode of Babylon 5, “Ceremonies of Light and Dark.” Fascinating that it should be so apropos.

I first heard about the water emergency Saturday afternoon when my daughter’s school phoned us with a pre-recorded message. They said there had been a break in a water main in Weston, and we should boil water from our faucet before using it. (Actually, I’m softening the wording here. The actual message was more in the form of an order, with unspeakable consequences should I disobey, like storm troopers coming to arrest me if I should disregard the “boil water order.”)

I immediately hit the Internet and New England Cable News for more information. Indeed a water main in Weston had sprung a catastrophic leak, affecting every city and town from there to Boston. Fortunately, they were able to switch over to backup reservoirs in order to maintain water pressure. Unfortunately, this reservoir water is untreated and has not been tested for safety, so federal regulations require that they promptly use words like “contaminated” and warn you to boil your water (like in a third-world country).

I’m about to do something in extremely poor taste; and I’m going to explain to you the reason why; and I’m not going to apologize. And you’re going to understand. And more than that, you’re also going to support me.

You see, while 9/11 for most other people holds memories of dread and of grief, for me, it holds memories of hope and of joy. Because September 11 is my wedding anniversary.

Margaret and I married each other on the afternoon of September 11, 1993. That means, this Friday, we will had been married 16 years. Not a milestone, but significant enough to keep us on the dance floor long after all those young whippersnappers have been driven off, leaving us to dance with the 20-years-ers, 30-years-ers, 40-years-ers, and… Well, you get the point.

And we’re not the only couple who was married on September 11. As they say:

Married in September's golden glow,
Smooth and serene your life will go.

I personally know at least one other couple who was married on September 11. And couples are still getting married on September 11. And they, like Margaret and I, we all have to look to that day—not as an example of what to fear—but as an example of love, of what our lives ought to be.

Now, I’m not a woman, and I’ve never given birth, and both of my daughters experienced complications while being born (so not “normal” births). So I’ll let Sheila tell us why a normal birth shouldn’t have to be painful:

To sum up from yesterday, a friend of mine posted on Facebook the “texting while driving” video, which contains an extreme, violently graphic depiction of a severe (maybe fatal) auto accident. My friend posted this with only one comment, that it’s “a short video that speaks volumes.” Not a word of warning regarding its nature or content. And I frankly beg to differ regarding how well it “speaks” and what it says.

For the full experience, however, click here for part 1.

Instead, I’m going to talk about a personally traumatic experience. Because I was one of the people today subjected to the “texting while driving” video that’s been making the rounds.

I say “subjected to,” because I had not heard of it before, and I received absolutely no warning of its extreme, violently graphic content. So I am giving you fair warning, if you haven’t seen it. But I also want to talk about the dangers of watching videos like this, and about the alternative. Because I’m so emotionally keyed-up, I might say something I’ll regret later. But I think I need to express a unique insight on this video, as a writer and storyteller. I’ll also connect it to a repeated trauma that I was forced to experience when I was in elementary school.

This essay is long enough that I’m splitting it up over 2 days. I’m scheduling the second part to be published about 24 hours after this one. (That’s Wednesday at 8 PM.)

And I promise not to name names. (At least not real names.)

Today, she asks: “What do you wish to tell the world?”

My answer: I wish to tell them that they don’t need to be afraid.

My first crush wore cotton T-shirts, soft and warm, like a woman. I accidentally bumped into her one day while filing into Algebra class. My arm rubbed against her back, feeling her bra clasp through the thin, white fabric. My entire body involuntarily froze for several seconds. I remember feeling as though I had just touched something sacred, maybe defiled it, like Moses at the burning bush or Isaiah in the temple.