The Late Arrival

Troops. Numbers. Percentiles. The more I consider the units of weights and measures, the more I'm convinced, it must be related to the counting. The "It" being the shootings, injuries by firearms and deaths. That "It." There's been yet another mass shooting , and a few days before that, a shooting that's left a little girl who's around Georgia's age clinging onto life by a thread. Both are tragic, as are other incidents around the country which didn't make national or local headlines. But this isn't a rant about gun regulation or about video games' influence or a culture of violence or services for the mentally ill or unemployment or any of the usual suspects. This isn't about beating our swords into plowshares , or the NRA or even gun regulation or communities taking back their communities. Maybe that's all part of It. But a big part of the It is in the Counting. The way we count ourselves . The way we count li

Mothers are the Creators of Normal. It’s a heady, intimidating responsibility, but it’s what moms are and do by simply living, breathing, walking and talking. The Creators of Normal shape protocol for phone call behavior. Whatever your urgent news is, if Mom is on the phone you do not interrupt her conversation. Instead, you wait – wait I say – for her to say in this order : “Mmm, hmmm. (one beat) Alright…(one beat, two beats) Uh-uh…(one beat, two beats, three beats)” You’re almost home free now, don’t interrupt. “Alright (one beat)…BYE-BYE!” Click. She might roll her eyes and impatiently ask what you need. Go ahead and tell her. Tell her! This is important stuff. “I hafta potty.” The Creators of Normal dictate color. Which is fine, if the Creator isn’t one of the rare cases of a color blind woman. But if the Creator is color blind, then she may ask you to fetch her brown purse on any given Sunday as she’s prepping you and herself for church. Obediently,