I don’t cry easily, well, let me paraphrase, I don’t cry frequently, long gaps in between of several months, but I have wept twice this morning already.  Although my father, who was a police detective did not die in the line of duty, his death was unexpected and sudden; and for some reason this morning when thinking of the families, the children, of those officers who were killed in the ambush of cowards protecting a crowd protesting against THEM, I relived the same sickening massive jolt of pain, shock, grief I felt when I was eight and Mom told us Daddy would not live beyond morning.  I guess I was identifying with what those families were feeling, and I wept, but I honestly don’t know if I could have retained my sanity back then if I knew Daddy had been murdered.

A little while ago, a 12-year-old girl who was interviewed last, was shown as she was reunited with her police officer mother who made it out of that melee without harm.  She was standing with her mother there on the street, very calm, very composed, but that little girl looked like she had been to hell and back and she kept calmly saying, I’m just glad she’s safe.  I broke down again.  To see a young child like that obviously so harrowed,but she was so brave, I think probably as brave as her mother.  Damn, I’m crying now.

I don’t know why, but since this morning, there’s a scene at the end of the movie, “Places in the Heart” that keeps playing in my mind.  And it’s when they’re all in church and Communion is being passed around; the widow, whose husband was the sheriff was accidentally shot and killed by a drunken young black man who in reality was usually harmless and who is then lynched, is sitting in the pew along with his unintentional killer besides his wife and children, and friends, and as they all take Communion, each one says individually, “The Peace of God.”  How I wish that for everyone.  Damn, I’ve got to stop crying.

Gun control is not going to get to the root of this problem.  It simply won’t.  Neither will anarchy,indiscriminate revenge, loose-lipped politicians, rushes to judgment, leaders making inflammatory statements that encouraged anarchy, not reason.  This does not help the people they are claiming they want to help or represent.  Nor does it help to make the people they don’t want to represent living targets.  It breeds fear on both sides; it breeds poor actions before thought; it breeds danger for all of us no matter what race we are.  It’s sickening.  There are rogue cops, true.  There are cops who simply panic and make poor decisions; but overall I’m grateful for them, underpaid as was my Dad, who fight urban warfare daily, and for politicians themselves so heavily guarded and protected by law enforcement people with guns to decry them and accuse them overall of racial prejudice galls me to the point that I’m almost counting the days until January 20, 2017 with fingers crossed we have the other evil to inaugurate.

This has been a bizarre vacation.