Another One Bites the Dust

When you've said goodbye to more than fifty-something "old" years, it's hard to think of anything new to say. You want to be sufficiently profound or insightful or, at the very least, funny but it's tough to frame it in a way that doesn't sound like it's been done a thousand times before.

For most of us, every year brings its share of profit and loss; gratitude and regret. For me, 2012 wasn't much different. The high water mark was undoubtedly the California wedding of a much-loved nephew that brought my entire family together in a rental property in Pasadena for six days that were filled with laughter and love. The low moment? I'm happy to say I can't think of one. Oh yeah, the Bears didn't make the playoffs. But if that's the "worst" I can come up with, I'd say I'm leading a charmed life. Everyone in my life is relatively healthy; everyone's got a roof over their heads and something on their plates to eat. I know how fortunate I am.

As for events that forever touched my heart, if not my actual life, the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary was like no other. I've always been a passionate advocate for sensible gun control but rarely did anything more than shoot off my mouth and write a few checks. But the loss of these children has motivated me to do more. We can't allow our nation's love affair with firearms to continue at the expense of our most innocent, most vulnerable citizens and I'm trying to find more ways to join with others who feel as I do to make our voices heard.

2012 has also been a year in which I felt embarrassed to be an American on more than one occasion. From the debt ceiling to the fiscal cliff, from health care reform to gun control, our leaders have let us down. No one can compromise; no one seems to exercise common sense and we're all left wondering if anyone is really listening to any of us.

But the end of the year is about hope, isn't it? It's about the resiliency of the human spirit. It's about putting on a funny hat, blowing a stupid horn, raising a glass of cheap champagne and vowing to get it right next year.

Here's hoping.

The Inmates are Running the Asylum

Today the NRA finally spoke. They had promised a meaningful response to last week's tragedy and today their top lobbyist, Wayne LaPierre, held a news conference to offer his group's recommendation to end mass shootings in our schools. Anyone who held out hope that this latest, most horrifically senseless crime against our nation's children would have softened the NRA's stance on semi-automatic weapons or, at the very least, the capacity of the magazines that are loaded into them, was reminded of this group's phenomenal lack of common sense and compassion as soon as Mr. LaPierre opened his mouth. His brilliant solution? He wants an armed guard in front of every one of our schools.  He actually had the nerve to say that the only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is with a good guy with a gun.

Unbelievable.

Every time I think the NRA has sunk to a new low, they find a way to top themselves. How can anyone think more guns are the answer? How can anyone believe that putting armed guards in front of schools would make our children feel safer? How can anyone still think assault weapons designed for the military capable of shooting 4-6 bullets per second should be guaranteed under the 2nd Amendment as an individual right? It's insanity. The only saving grace in the whole ridiculous news conference was the fact that LaPierre did himself and his group of Congress-hijacking bullies no favors. The woman who interrupted his idiotic remarks with a banner proclaiming the NRA has our children's blood on their hands got it right. Hopefully, the people of Newtown, Connecticut will lead the rest of us to find a way to make our voices louder than those of the most powerful special interest group in Washington.

That's the only way to stop the bad guys with the guns.

When Will it End?

We know who they are now. We've seen their faces. We've heard about their adventures on baseball fields, their ability to light up a room and how much they loved their teachers. Every new detail breaks another piece of our hearts; every new revelation of heroism and loss brings us to tears yet again.

After Columbine, Virginia Tech and a theater in Aurora, Colorado, we didn't think anything could shock us; could puncture our immunity to senseless violence but, of course, this has. The massacre of twenty innocent six year-olds has jolted us into a reality that is unthinkable. And it seems to be propelling a lot of people to action.

Tonight I watched Piers Morgan on CNN interviewing an idiot who maintained that weapons similar to the one who wiped out an entire first grade class are the Ferrari of guns; that they're fun. Mr. Morgan tore him apart for saying it but he never backed down. I wonder if he would have had the guts to say it to the people of Newtown. I wonder if he could have looked those parents in the eyes and told them that the solution to the gun problem in this country is more guns.

If he's right, I don't want to live here anymore. I don't want to live in a country that believes arming everyone with concealed weapons is the way to make us safer. I don't want to live in a country where the next time I cut in front of someone in the grocery line, I have to worry that some enraged shopper is going to teach me a lesson. I don't want to live in a country that thinks the possession of assault weapons designed for military and police use is a God-given right to every civilian looking to have a little "fun".

I can only hope and pray that this horrific tragedy will inspire others who feel as I do to stand up and make their voices heard. Those children and their teachers deserve nothing less.

Twelve, Twelve, Twelve

Okay. The next time we're going to have a cool date like this, we'll all be dead so let's enjoy this one, shall we. I know it's a big day for people to get married and parents are beside themselves if their kid managed to pop out on such a "lucky" day but for me 12/12/12 only means one thing - there are only twelve more shopping days until Christmas.

For any of you who've been reading my blog for awhile, you know that my love affair with Christmas has waned a bit in the last few years. I used to get as excited as the next person (unless the next person happens to be my nephew's new wife, Erin) but three decades of hauling in heavy trees and excavating endless boxes up from the basement are enough to knock the bloom off of any rose (or should I say berries off of any holly?). But this year, I've got to get my act together; we all have to get our act together. The aforementioned Erin is coming to town. And anything less than a Hallmark movie spectacular will make a lousy first impression on our family's Christmas Queen.

So, we're going to do it up big. We're hopping on the Christmas train, going in to the city to see the lights and windows. We're going to the Walnut Room at Macy's, we're decorating a tree together at Nana and Papa's place and we're all staying overnight to wake up together on Christmas morning. After tearing through packages and scarfing down an indulgent breakfast, we're heading off to weep profusely at the noon showing of "Les Miz". It sounds exhausting. But it also sounds like fun - the kind of fun I used to look forward to every year when my kids were little.

Now I just need to figure out what the heck I'm putting under that damn tree.

More Excuses

I haven't written a blog in over a week. I hope someone noticed. But if you didn't,I can't blame you. How can I expect to gain a group of loyal followers when I don't have the discipline to write regularly? Oh, I forgot. I am writing regularly - just not in this space.

Ever since I got the opportunity to get paid for some of my writing, I'm finding it a little tougher to sit down and write anything else. My novel is getting dustier by the minute and my blogs are getting further and further apart. You would think it would be the opposite; that regular writing would motivate me but I honestly think I might be using up any creative juices I may have left churning out my daily contributions to my new employer. Didn't someone once say something about the dangers of turning your hobby into your job?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I'm thrilled beyond belief that someone is actually paying me for my sophomoric attempts at humor. It's easily the best job I've ever had (except for that whole motherhood thing). Having recently received my third paycheck, it's heartening to think I still have them fooled. I hope it lasts a while longer.

I'm getting used to working in my pajamas.