Every Mother’s Son (and Daughter)

Something I’ve been thinking about:

A while back I read this truly horrifying book called STALIN: THE COURT OF THE RED TSAR. Those Stalinists did some terrible terrible things. They killed many many millions of people. You know what I don’t ever remember them doing (in this book I read)?

Shooting someone in the street in broad daylight and leaving the body lying on the ground. Murdering a child in the street and leaving the body lying on the ground. Gunning down a child in the street and leaving the body to rot lying on the ground.

That child who grew in his mother’s womb. That child who nursed at his mother’s breast. That child who thoughtlessly, as all children do, received the love and hope and care of those around.

We are all of us, ALL OF US, at every age, at any age, our mother’s sons and daughters, our mother’s children. And there’s not a one of us, not a one of us, NOT A ONE OF US, that deserves to be killed in this manner, nor killed in any other.

Not even this vile thug, this betrayer of the public trust, this murdering colossal waste of human life, this parasite on the CITIZEN-FUNDED government, not even he, this child killer, not even he deserves to be gunned down in the street.

Something to think about.

Something I can’t stop thinking about.

Something I have the PRIVILEGE not to have to think about, if I don’t want to.

Still, I fear, with a not unreasonable fear, that someone might some day–some fearful white man, probably, with one of the murder weapons that blight our country–kill my children.

But I have the PRIVILEGE not to fear this as much as those whose skin just happens to be darker than my own. I have the privilege not to live this fear every time I see a cop car drive by. I have the privilege not to have to teach my son how to avoid getting shot by the police.


Do you hear me, my friends?

It’s madness. And I can only look on in helpless horror, because I don’t know what else to do.

Me, I’d rather write about presidents riding pterodactyls and moons made of cheese, King Kong in a diner, and all the silly thoughts I have.

I didn’t feel like doing that tonight, though.

Maybe tomorrow.

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