Saturday, November 14, 2015

They deserved another dawn

Someone once said that good comes to the forefront in the toughest of times.

More than 100 human beings were killed last night in Paris.

A fun and fun-loving friend spent part of her summer living and learning there, seeking to stay. But she returned home, and in a magical moment exchanged one well-deserved dream for another, being accepted for a job she wanted here in the States.

As of 10 p.m. (EST) last night, she had confirmed that several friends and former co-workers are fine. About others, she waits. 

The super and sassy older sister I never had has confirmed that her niece, also studying in the City of Lights, is alive.

No word has been filed -- yet -- from a super scribe Francophile friend in Fishtrap Hollow.

This morning, revisiting these words, listening to the latest on NPR News ("We are all scared"), my thoughts returned to a scene in my second favorite film, "Casablanca." Always stirring ("Vive La France!" Vive La France!"), it will now, too, be a reminder. 

Evil people have existed since the genesis of human history. And, yet, every time another tragedy transpires, my heart hurts. It doesn't matter that I didn't know the deceased. They were innocents who deserved to dream, to see another dawn, to die a different way on a different day.

Earlier last night, I was trying to manage yet another migraine. I was feeling low, ready to sucker punch chronic pain to win the prize, pondering presidential politics, seeking civility in the conversation, trying in vain, with wonderful people of all persuasions, to maneuver minefields.

I was eased back in my easy chair while others were braving unbearable blows, victims of yet another terrorist organization that apparently organized this act, yet again in the name of religion. And when will that ever make any sliver of sense?

How many more times will this happen before we, at long last, cease the insanity, perfect our priorities, replace anger with engagement, extremism with moderation, call because you care, say "I love you" because they are the three loveliest words in any language, because you never know when -- or if -- you'll get to say them again.

And that's the way it should be, to paraphrase Cronkite's sign off, for Saturday, Nov. 14, 2015, this is one ordinary writer, depressed but determined, grieving but grateful, sending solace to the suffering, and love to the lonely.

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