Today, I cried. I was in the kitchen, preparing a pretty nice brunch, when my daughter came in and asked if I'd heard the news. What news? The news about Amy Winehouse joining the “27 Club.” The what? The club of musicians who have died at 27 years of age. It took me a while to wrap my head around what she was telling me, and then my eyes filled with tears. Sad tears, disappointed tears, frustrated tears.
There will be all the usual postmortems and editorials about the evils of alcohol and drugs, and there will be those who will blame Ms. Winehouse and say that she somehow deserved it, that she did it to herself. In fact, those vilifications have already begun. And we don't even know what the cause of death was yet. People sometimes rush to judgment.
But let's not. Let's be decent and loving and honoring. Ms. Winehouse's talent was, it's true, overshadowed by the challenges and obstacles she faced. But we were all rooting for her, weren't we? We were hoping that hers would be a story of survival and overcoming. A story of talent redeemed and music to fill the soul with joy and wonder. Because Ms. Winehouse had a fabulous blues voice. I liked her style. The bouffant hair and the thick eyeliner and the whole retro look. She touched my heart. She reminded me of the singers of my youth. And now, sadly, she reminds me of Janis and Jimmy and Jim and Kurt and...well, too many, really. Members of the “27 Club,” all.
I don't pretend to know what was going on in Ms. Winehouse's life, but I do know this: It is not our destiny to be tortured souls, though some of us are. It is our destiny to be loved by God. And all of us are, though we might not realize it. Rest in peace, Amy.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Guns and Stuff
Our boys don't hunt (yet). My husband grew up in a hunting family and is always in search of hunting buddies. He had hoped his sons would come around. But they were raised in the city, and I guess it's just different when you can't simply throw your gear in the truck, jump in, and head for the woods for the day. Hunting for them would have involved being out of school for a week or two, and then coming home to severe heckling, negative peer pressure, and harassment.
I know this because that's exactly what happened to our younger son when he came back from his very first hunt at the tender young age of twelve, having bagged his first buck. Just about anywhere else, this milestone would have been heralded as a young man's coming of age. My son's experience was quite the opposite, except at home, where we were so proud of him. But we do not live in a place that has a hunting culture. Some kids at school were appalled and treated him badly, shaming him. And that's too bad.
Even though our boys didn't take to hunting (yet), they have now decided that target shooting is fun, and they've become quite proficient. This is a source of much encouragement for my husband. And even better, they invited him to go shooting with them today!
And so, off they went, the three of them, out to the range for the day. I imagine my husband will share some good hunting stories with them, tales from his grandfather and father, passing down family lore from father to sons. And, truth be told, that's what he'd hoped to be able to do with them all along, albeit on hunting expeditions. So, the result will be there, even if the means aren't quite what he'd hoped for (yet). I wonder if the targets they pick up at the store will be the bull's eye kind, or if they will be the kind with a picture of a deer. Who knows? This could turn out to be a hunt, after all. The same thing, only different.
I know this because that's exactly what happened to our younger son when he came back from his very first hunt at the tender young age of twelve, having bagged his first buck. Just about anywhere else, this milestone would have been heralded as a young man's coming of age. My son's experience was quite the opposite, except at home, where we were so proud of him. But we do not live in a place that has a hunting culture. Some kids at school were appalled and treated him badly, shaming him. And that's too bad.
Even though our boys didn't take to hunting (yet), they have now decided that target shooting is fun, and they've become quite proficient. This is a source of much encouragement for my husband. And even better, they invited him to go shooting with them today!
And so, off they went, the three of them, out to the range for the day. I imagine my husband will share some good hunting stories with them, tales from his grandfather and father, passing down family lore from father to sons. And, truth be told, that's what he'd hoped to be able to do with them all along, albeit on hunting expeditions. So, the result will be there, even if the means aren't quite what he'd hoped for (yet). I wonder if the targets they pick up at the store will be the bull's eye kind, or if they will be the kind with a picture of a deer. Who knows? This could turn out to be a hunt, after all. The same thing, only different.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Dead Babies
Casey Anthony was found not guilty of murder today in the death of her 2-year-old little girl, Caylee. "Not guilty" and "innocent" are two different things in our legal system. The prosecution just didn't prove its circumstantial case to the jury, it appears. Whether Casey is actually innocent or is guilty of a different crime than the one for which she was prosecuted is perhaps another matter, and it is not the subject of this blog.
What I'm noticing in the comments I've read is interesting in that people seem to believe the jury has perpetrated a travesty of justice, that the mother should fry, that she should rot, that she should never be allowed to have gainful employment or leave her house, that our legal system is hopelessly broken, and so on and so on. The visceral reaction of people to the death of this innocent child is understandable on the one hand, and it's puzzling on the other.
Understandable in that sweet little children should never be subjected to violence or neglect. They should be loved outrageously and liberally. They should be nurtured and cared for and protected. They should be treated well, their innocence cherished, their potential valued and realized. I entirely agree, just so there's no confusion. Life is precious and valuable. Little Caylee deserved better.
Here's why it's also puzzling. Sweet little innocent children are killed...butchered...every single day in the name of choice. They are torn to bits and vacuumed out of their mommies and thrown in the trash. And nobody seems to care about that. Where's the justice for those babies? Why aren't folks all up in arms about their deaths?
I'm sure there's a distinction in there somewhere, but I don't get it.
There have been about 50,000,000 abortions in the United States since 1973. I guess that's just too big a number to seem real. Too big a number to wrap your head around. I guess it's easier if you don't think of them as dead babies.
What I'm noticing in the comments I've read is interesting in that people seem to believe the jury has perpetrated a travesty of justice, that the mother should fry, that she should rot, that she should never be allowed to have gainful employment or leave her house, that our legal system is hopelessly broken, and so on and so on. The visceral reaction of people to the death of this innocent child is understandable on the one hand, and it's puzzling on the other.
Understandable in that sweet little children should never be subjected to violence or neglect. They should be loved outrageously and liberally. They should be nurtured and cared for and protected. They should be treated well, their innocence cherished, their potential valued and realized. I entirely agree, just so there's no confusion. Life is precious and valuable. Little Caylee deserved better.
Here's why it's also puzzling. Sweet little innocent children are killed...butchered...every single day in the name of choice. They are torn to bits and vacuumed out of their mommies and thrown in the trash. And nobody seems to care about that. Where's the justice for those babies? Why aren't folks all up in arms about their deaths?
I'm sure there's a distinction in there somewhere, but I don't get it.
There have been about 50,000,000 abortions in the United States since 1973. I guess that's just too big a number to seem real. Too big a number to wrap your head around. I guess it's easier if you don't think of them as dead babies.
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