Palm Sunday, 2018. I forget exactly when I started closing my essays with the words “love one another,” but what follows is a redux of an essay I wrote on June 26, 2016, days after the Pulse shooting, that lays out my interpretation of those three little words. Plus with Easter coming up on Sunday, it’s kinda relevant. Enjoy.
Recently, a friend told me he posted a meme on social media that he thought was perfectly fine until a friend pointed out to him that said meme might be offensive. My friend informed me that he removed the meme and proceeded to render a heartfelt apology. But between his confession and mea culpa, he sandwiched a question: is an Oompa Loompa meme offensive to Little People?
Over the past few years, we’ve witnessed a number of mass shootings. Yes, the ones that make national headlines, and the ones that go unmentioned by the mainstream media. There’s a lot that’s been said about them; plenty of debate, conjecture, blaming, shaming, convicting, and support of victims. But there’s one subject that is rarely addressed: the ripple effect these shootings have not just on those not directly impacted, but those who are continually watching from a disance and what coping skills we should we all employ.
What do we do?
Difficult people are hard to love. This makes having healthy relationships with them challenging. Read as: a pain the ass, thorn in the side, fun as a sharp stick in the eye, or all of the above. Everyone has at least one difficult relationship. And probably the most challenging relationship is the one between parents and their adult children.
New Year’s Resolutions, 2017, and Beyond
I don’t do resolutions. I gave up the practice a long time ago. Maybe it’s just me, but by the time February rolls around, I’m too consumed with surviving the public shame of not having a proper Valentine to remember a promise to improve some aspect of my behavior that I made after three glasses of champagne on New Year’s Eve. I can’t recall exactly when I tossed the promise to lose weight long. It doesn’t really matter as I’ve kinda become accustomed to my new cherub-bod. It’s growing on me. Literally.
Known to those of us in English speaking countries as Bastille Day, the National Celebration is their equivalent to our Fourth of July.
For me, viewing televised reports of mass murders and terror attacks had become, dare I say, commonplace. Yes, a detached sadness accompanied watching those tragedies, but those types of events happened in other cities. Disasters like that could never happen in my hometown. But on June 12, 2016, that all changed when forty-nine victims were brutally murdered, the gunman killed, and scores more injured at Pulse, an LGBTQ nightclub five minutes from downtown
If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.
— Romans 12:18
For Vanessa (or anyone else) interested in Paris.
Vanessa, congratulations on your upcoming trip to Paris! You’ll have a wonderful time. It’s one of my favorite cities on the planet (the other being New York). I’ve had the pleasure of going a couple of times. Here’s a few of my favorite things to do with links for more information.
A lot people say they want change, but a lot more people aren’t willing to do what it takes to bring about that change. I’ve seen this play out in a reality TV show and in my own community over the last week, each with markedly different results.