A few years ago, I started reading romance. Before you click away, let me say that the old trope of the helpless maiden waiting to be rescued is dead. The genre has changed.
It’s a lazy Sunday morning in Texas. My dear friend Kathy, who I met when we were seventeen, is reading the San Antonio Express-News. I’m Googling “gun deaths in the United States.” [Read more…]
I can’t do a blog post today. My little essays are meaningless in the face of such tragedy. I feel despair about the carnage, and about the possibility of it ever getting better. But if we didn’t learn anything from seeing twenty 6-year-olds being slaughtered, if we weren’t moved by a President’s tears, there’s no hope for us.
So I’m spending my time praying and hugging my family. I’m sorry I’m such a downer. I’m sure by next week, like the rest of the nation, I will have forgotten, mostly. And continue whistling past the graveyard, hoping it never happens to us personally.
Please say something. I’d appreciate it.
Anne Helen Petersen wrote a book about unruly women because she regrets having grown up ruly. She wants to encourage us to be brave, because she was not.
I was watching a news program recently, listening to a discussion about a prominent older person* in Washington, DC, and it shocked me, but not for the usual reasons. [Read more…]
This afternoon I was in the gym at my senior community, and I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in months. What have you been up to, we asked each other. The answers may surprise you. [Read more…]