Live & Let Live

I’m organized and efficient.

In every aspect of my life.

For example:

I have 3 phone chargers.

One by my bed. One in my car. One where I watch television.

Once in awhile, one of mine is missing. Someone borrows it.

I say the same thing I always say:

“Your garbage shouldn’t interfere with my life.”

I’m a firm believer in that.

You can believe in whatever you want to believe. Don’t preach it to me.

You enjoy shooting guns, great.

Don’t shoot me with it.

Don’t shoot up society.

Whatever it is.

Live in your own little world with all of your cherished beliefs, and leave me and my loved ones the hell alone.

The funny thing about freedom is that people chant for freedom only when it fits their agenda.

“My body, my choice,” was the rallying cry for people who didn’t want to wear masks.

Comes to women’s rights the same people say:

“You don’t get a choice.”

“Second amendment rights are scared!”

But a 10-year-olds right to live a life?

Not even considered.

These are truly troubling times.

I drove my son to work yesterday and tried to gauge his reaction to the devastation.

“LeBron puts out a lot of strong statements,” he said. “I’m glad that he stands up for what’s right.”

“Me too,” I said. “It has to change. It wasn’t always like this.”

Sam was born the year before 9/11.

Things have been haywire since.

So many of these “tragedies”.

A pandemic.

Misery.

“You really think it will change?” Sam asked.

He wasn’t waiting for me to answer.

I suppose he knows the answer.

“We gotta’ make it change,” I said, answering him anyway. “We gotta’ keep the pressure on.”