Monday, August 19, 2019

Something a little different.

This week I have to do something a little different. 

I typically like to post about new books or movies. Pop in pictures and links. Currently. I don't have access to bells and whistles and so I'm going a little weird today and just running through what is in my head.
Like a journal.

See, I don't journal. I just write stories. Everything I think or feel goes into my stories. Somehow I make it all fit.

My computer gave up the fight several days ago. No complaints though,  warranties rock and we will be receiving a new one soon. This post is coming from my phone.

Still, I'm embarassed by my reaction to this momentary displacement of a rather unnecessary item. 

Embarassed by how much I miss my computer. 

I've read Ray Bradbury did much of his writing at the library. I love Ray Bradbury. I love my local library. Off I go, let's get down to business and cue the MULAN music.

You know who also goes to the library? People who actually need the library.

People sending in job applications. People who can't afford a computer or the internet. Checking email. Playing Mjnecraft. People who arrived at the library on the bus or had to walk. 

Plenty of older folks. These folks often pick up their groceries on the way back to the bus stop. We see them. Waiting at the stops, no chairs, just a pole to lean on. Holding bags with canned stew and tuna.

We should take better care of our old folks.

My Dad had a heart procedure this week. He's 79. Weighs about 100 pounds. It was scary, but he kicked ass. 

So did my Mom. She spent the entire day at the hospital. She's a little hobbit, as well. She's beat bladder cancer, breast cancer and had a portion of her spine replaced with metal. What an awesome woman. Robo-Nana.

Of course, these are just the physical challenges they deal with. They do their best to stay positive. They choose to be happy.

While Robo-Nana and I waited at the hospital, we met a family. Two pre-teen boys, a little girl and a very pregnant mom. All waiting for their father who was having a serious heart procedure.

Only the oldest boy spoke English. They were crammed into the admitting office. The children looked terrified.

As more patients came in, the area became tight. 

The administration secretary kept poking his head round the corner, looking. Twice he gave the family a flyer that told them where they should go to wait.  A nicer, larger waiting area. But, he didn't speak to them.

He was quite good at the stink-eye. 

Every time the little boy who spoke English would ask for help, the grownups would talk over him. 

The nurse working on their father came out to grab another patient. The young man took his moment, and spoke in a near whisper.

"Yes sir. We don't know how to get to the waiting room."

The nurse put his hand on the boys shoulder.

"Good Lord! No one told you how to get there?"

He took the five minutes to walk them down the hall and ask if they were alright. Such a great nurse.

It took most of the morning for someone to take a little extra time and calm this poor family.

Can you imagine how afraid they must've been. Their father gravely ill. They don't understand. People who are supposed to help them and their father seem unhelpful, if not angry.

Good Lord, indeed.

We should help others more.

School is starting  soon. This is the darkest part of the year for me. I'm going to miss my kids. 

However. I remember, not too far from where we live, two teen girls were shot and murdered last year. The father to one and uncle to the other arrested, but those girls are gone forever.

A few miles away, just this year, a little boy picked up his grandfather's gun and accidentally shot and killed his young sister. 

This summer, at a park in the city, during a neighborhood picnic, a little girl was shot and killed when a fight escalated.

All gone forever. The sadness for their mothers and fathers will be neverending.

It feels like we'll never stop the killing.

This world is in such a bad way.


It's morning when all these thoughts, and so many more, collect in my head. Roosting. 

And it is morning when I wish to sit at my computer, and for a bit, excercise these thoughts.


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