Seems like the news is full of guns lately -- another crop of random shootings, murder sprees, suicides. I get a little panicky at times, wondering if it's some b-movie phenomenon involving tree pollen or subliminal messages beamed from a satellite somewhere (remember that rotten Shyalaman film with Markie Mark? Remember "The Astronaut's Wife?") I wonder if it's the moon. Full moon last night... wait, is it also a full moon in Germany? I should know this, my husband would say. It's one of those things I should just know. Like coreolis force.
Rice Freeman posted something on her blog today about kids with handguns. Now, Rice does not love kids, first of all. And second, she lives in Texas, where she has been a white woman married to a black man for many years -- she has come to grips with the guns, and with racist kids to some degree, but the two combined are still a lot to take (and why not?) Rice didn't shoot anyone, but still -- she went from the bad smells of little kids to the unsupervised handguns being toted to school by racist youths, and didn't leave much room in between. (I mean, my five year old smells funky sometimes, but we don't have any damned guns in the house, so come on. Cut my kid some slack.) Guns -- guns everywhere -- in the hands of kids, even, and often if not always, tragically so.
Sometimes I get tired, trying to come up with reasons why people should feel hopeful about our country, about the future of our society.