The Night Mark Lynch Made Me Cry

It was the day after the terrorist shootings in an Orlando night club. I hadn't spent much time watching the news or surfing online. It was an unusual day for me in that sense. But I've noticed lately when tragedies happen.....and they seem to happen more and more often.....that I have to take myself away from them. I have to shield myself or it all becomes too much. I treat my head and my heart like a child whose mother still covers up her ears from the dirty words. So I covered my ears as best I could all day, and then later I did get online.

And I saw this:

With permission by Bobby Whitmire for Shutter 16.

I saw this picture of Mark Lynch taken by Bobby Whitmire. And it had nothing to do with Orlando.

And I started crying and I couldn't stop. And I didn't know why.

Wait. I did know why.

I looked at Mark and I saw the lines in his face, and I thought about how strong he is in his voice and his opinions. And I knew he was sad about Orlando too because he's just that kind of guy. And I saw the lights and the cords and the stickers and the graffiti and I thought of all the times I had stood there in that same place. And I thought about all the people we knew and how strange and weird we were and what we all loved about our lives and each other. And I thought of my son and my husband and my house and my blue bedspread and all the things and people that I love in this life. And I thought of all the worst people in the world that are trying to take all of best things we have away.

And I wondered what will happen next? How long before it happens again? And when will men with guns come into my child's school? And when will they start coming into malls and day cares and hospitals? And when did life get so scary? And how did this happen? And when will it ever end? And how many times can we go through this? And what will it take? And when will it stop? Will it stop? Will it stop?

And since I didn't have an answer. And Mark's picture didn't have an answer. I just sat there and looked at it. And I cried and cried.

Reclaiming Your Childhood: Priceless

This story might take a minute to tell. Bear with me. When my sister and I were little girls, my mother took us to a large baptist church in town. Even as a child, I never remember feeling welcome there. But I do remember the lovely older couple that kept my Sunday School class. They gave us saltines and kool-aid, and I remember thinking they would be nice grandparents to have. At Christmastime, the Sunday School class was set to have a random gift exchange. Every child was supposed to bring a gift that could be exchanged with any other child.....no specific gift designations. I received the gift of an Avon 7 bead necklace which was very popular at the time. I loved it so much and was thrilled to have it! I was somewhere between 5 and 7 at the time. (Back in the 1970's and 80's, Avon was a cosmetic company that was also known for it's inexpensive jewelry. I couldn't find a price on what this necklace would have cost back then, but apparently there is ...

My Week with Rumor

My dog Rumor was an experiment. A trial offer. And all parties knew that going in. Except for maybe Rumor. Rumor was an outdoor country dog. His given name was Ruger (named after a firearm if you don't know, I didn't) which made sense for a dog raised in hunting country. He was a stray that came to live with a loving family at about the age of 1. He lived outdoors, slept in a garage crate at night, frolicked with an older dog pack and had a lovely life. We think he was about 4 years old. He had been neutered, had vet care and was by no means a "rescue". His dad offered Ruger to me on a give-it-a-try basis. He knew I wanted a dog. He told me Ruger would be sweet to me and also be my protector. He was right on both counts. He told me if it didn't work out, I could bring Ruger back to him and his wife. I could tell they were a little sad when they dropped him off. It made me glad to see that Ruger came from such ...

NYE for $200, Alex

Can we all just agree that New Year's Eve is the worst of the string of winter holidays? I would even go so far as saying it's THE WORST of all the holidays. I loved when Stanford Blatch defined a party as feeling very "forced festive". To me, most NYE parties feel that way. The idea that this is a big year-end blow-out and we'd all damn well better make it awesome! The reason I hate NYE is because it combines two of things I most hate about celebrations: cold weather and crowds. Plus it's during a time of year when everyone has already spent all their money. AND you usually have to the leave the house. ADDITIONALLY, you have to stay up late. It's a big F.U. from me on all this. I would dare say that some of my happiest New Year's memories have been spent at home in my pajamas with either my child, an S.O. or happily alone. I remember one unforgettable year of moving into a 3rd floor apartment on NYE. I rememb...

Becky's Greatest Hits Vol. II

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