Unrest

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There's been a lot of footage of a whole bunch of people marching in the streets protesting the vote for president.

I don't much care for civil unrest.

I love that we are allowed to assemble and raise our voices, of course, but I'm OCD to a fault!

I like all the shit in all the right places...

...just ask my beautiful wife and my kids.

Things are supposed to be orderly and organized and then I can rest!

(Which is exactly why I rest so infrequently. Things seldom go where they're supposed to).

But of all the unrest I've seen...

...the spot where I saw the worst unrest was on the face of my 16-year old son, Sam.

Sam has a beautiful heart. He cares about everything! He also really loves peace, and like all children, he craves security.

I saw the unsettled look on his face the morning after the election...and he put it into perspective quickly.

"The Donald pulled it out," he said.

I grunted.

"Hey," he said. "It won't kill us, we're white men."

I glanced back over my shoulder at him and that's where I saw the angst.

I have been thinking about Spurs coach, Greg Popovich and what he said about it being horribly naive to think that the people who cast a vote for Trump are racist.

Of course they are not racist in the traditional sense...

...but they heard and saw racism being spouted as policy...

...and it wasn't a deal-breaker for them.

"He won't really kick out all the non-white people," Sam said, hopefully.

The most important job of my life is to provide security for my family...and they definitely play off of me.

"No," I said. "We'll still have all kinds of people here. This is still America."

And the protests in the street, despite the chaos of the events, puts that front and center.

Sometimes unrest is required...

...before we can rest again.

All of us.

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