I just need one little favor....

Jeri sat waiting for Anthony to show up. He would be five minutes late she knew. He was always five minutes late. It was long enough for the person waiting to think maybe he wasn't going to show up but not so long that they would be angry with him or would leave. She wasn't even sure if he realized he did it, but she knew. She had thought about showing up 10 minutes late just to make a statement but it was a brief thought. The time in her life where she wanted to say anything to him had passed years ago. Now she just wanted to see what he was after and go home.

The bell on the shop door rang and Jeri looked at her watch, 2:05, right on time.

"Jeri! You look great! I can't believe it's been so long." Anthony put his arms around her hugging her tightly. "Can I get you anything? I see you have a coffee already, you must have gotten here awhile ago, I was held up, how had I forgotten that traffic was so bad on this side of town? I don't know how you stand living out here." Typical Anthony to turn his being late into a knock on her choice of where to live. Or maybe typical of her to hear the insult when he was just talking to fill space.

As he made his way to the counter to order Jeri noticed a few women in the shop looking at him over their coffee cups. He was fully aware of the attention and made sure to smile over his shoulder at Jeri, but really it was so the women looking at him could be dazzled by his perfect grin and adorable dimples. Then he turned to flirting with the barista. Most likely she would end up giving him his coffee for free, or at least her phone number. In the beginning of their relationship Jeri would have been proud that so many women found him attractive and he chose to be with Jeri, by the end she would be tired of it. Tired of sharing his attention. Tired of knowing that he craved that attention more than he would ever admit. And never really knowing if flirtation was all he was after.

He came back to the table with his coffee and sat looking at her. Soul gazing he would call it, where you look deeply in to someone's eyes. It used to make her feel like he was the only one who truly saw her. Who understood her. And who wanted to know her more. But then she realized he used it on everyone right before he asked for a favor. He had figured out that he could form almost an instant bond with someone by just looking at them. That was one of the things Jeri had learned from him, that people just wanted to be looked at. To be seen. Though Anthony never really saw anyone. He just liked the reflection of himself he could see in their eyes.

He started to hum along with the song playing in the background, "Oh my God, do you remember where we were the first time we heard this song?"

"Stop it." Jeri told him.

"Stop what? What are you talking about?" Anthony put on his best puzzled face.

"Stop trying to manipulate me. You've been doing it since you called. You knew I wouldn't answer if I recognized the caller ID so you called my office instead of my cell. You knew I would never agree to drinks or dinner with you so you suggested afternoon coffee. And you knew I would never just go grab a cup of coffee with you so you asked for help for Jeanie. Now you are trying to soften me up by telling me how great I look and bringing up good memories. So stop it. I'm here. I'm listening, what do you want?"

"When did you become so cynical, Jeri? It doesn't really become you."

Jeri could see the ice in his eyes this time. He was recalculating his next set of moves. He should laugh and pat her hand and then move on....

Anthony laughed a little and reached out to pat her hand, "Oh, Jeri, don't be so tense. I wasn't trying to manipulate anything. You do look great and of course I would think of the first time we heard that song. You are sitting right here in front of me. Don't try and tell me it's not bringing up a lot of memories."

Jeri gave Anthony a tight smile, "What did you need, Anthony? You said you needed to talk to me about Jeanie."

Anthony sat back away from the table and for the first time that day Jeri saw his real face. The one he rarely showed to anyone. No smile, no charm, no dazzling dimples. Just a normal calm face. Now he would speak the truth.

"There isn't an easy way to say this. Mom's dying. The cancer came back. They didn't catch it until it had spread too far to treat. They think she has three months left at most."

"Oh, Anthony, I am sorry. She was always lovely to me. She even called a few months after we split to see how I was. I didn't go see her, for obvious reasons, but I was touched that she thought of me."

"She always liked you. She thought you were the one for me, did you know that? I told her I thought so too."

And there it was back in place. His show face. This time he was going with soft charm.

"Why are you here telling me this? What do you want from me?"

"Mom has been talking a lot about her life. What she has done and hasn't done. And her biggest regret is that she didn't get to be a grandmother. Felicia got married last year but they haven't had kids yet and there isn't time for her to give Mom a grandchild even if she got pregnant right away."

As he spoke the anger bloomed inside of Jeri filling her with ice. She wasn't sure she could move without shattering. He couldn't possibly be here to ask for that. To want that. To think she would give him that. She took a deep breath to try and keep calm.

"And what exactly does this have to do with me?"

"Look, I know I blew it, okay, I know that I made a bad choice but it was what 6 years ago? I've changed, I've grown up. I want to make it right."

"And you thought that making it right would be what exactly? Coming here and asking me for what, Anthony? What do you want?"

"I know that when we talked about what we were going to do you talked about open adoption. And I thought maybe you had gone through with that? I tried to check at the hospital but they wouldn't give me any information, even though I'm the father."

"No, Anthony, you aren't. Don't you remember? When I refused to 'take care of it' the way you wanted me to you said you wanted nothing more to do with it. There was no 'what we were going to do', you made it perfectly clear that it was my problem and if I wasn't going to take care of it you wanted nothing to do with it. I have a legal document you signed giving away all rights and responsibilities as a parent. You never were the father. Ever."

Anthony reached out to try and pat Jeri's hand again but she pulled away from him like he had burned her. "Jeri, don't be like this okay? I just want to know if it's possible for me to give my Mom the one thing she regrets not having."

"You are unbelievable. How did you think this was going to go? That you would call the hospital and they would be so pleased to hear from you that they would give you all of the information you wanted just like that?"

"Well they didn't..."

Jeri cut him off, "And when that didn't happen you thought you would call me and I would tell you what you wanted? Help you give your Mom a grandchild? Did you think this through at all?"

"I haven't thought of much else since she said this was her big regret. I knew I could give her this. How can you be so selfish to not even consider it?"

"How did you plan on doing this, Anthony? How did you see it going? That you were going to walk in to Jeanie's house and present her with a child? 'Look, Mom! Your grandchild!' and then she would be so happy and pleased with you that she would declare that from this moment forward and forever more you would be the favorite child? That you could hold this over Felicia's head until the day one of you died? That you were the one who gave Jeanie her grandchild. You were the one she loved best."

As Jeri spoke she could see on Anthony's face that this was exactly how he thought it would go. That this was, as it always was, about him. How he could be the one everyone loved. How he could be the best. His mother wanted a grandchild? Well he just happened to know where he might be able to get her one, beat that Felicia.

"Well let me save you from yourself one more time. Not that you deserve it but let me tell you how it would have gone. If you had walked in to Jeanie's house with a five year old child and presented her with her long lost grandchild she wouldn't have been happy with you, Anthony, she would have hated you. Don't look so shocked. You told me her one regret was not having grandchildren, how do you think she would feel knowing that she did have one and for five years she hasn't had a relationship with that child because you didn't want anything to do with it. You wanted the pregnancy terminated. No child at all. And now five years later you want to show a woman on her deathbed that she could have had what she always wanted except you were too selfish to give it to her."

"I didn't..."

"No, you didn't, because you never do. And what did you think was going to happen after your big presentation? This is a child we are talking about not a show pony. Did you think you could just pick up and drop off and not leave a mark on this child's life? Not cause pain and confusion to an innocent child? Just because you wanted to come play the hero? You know that as soon as your mother passed playing at being a dad in any way shape or form would wear thin and what then? Did you think at all about the child? For even a second?"

Anthony sat staring at Jeri, "So you won't help me then?"

"Have you been listening to me at all? Your fantasy of how this would have gone was just that, a fantasy. It would have been a disaster. You would have hurt your mother and the child by trying to be the hero. Just let it go. And besides I didn't do the open adoption so I can't help you anyway."

At this point Anthony's face fell. "I know you don't believe it, Jeri, but I really have changed. I've grown up a lot. And I really did think this was going to be good for her. I'm not the selfish monster you seem to think I am."

"Anthony, I would believe you except for two things. First off do you remember the last time we talked? You called me because you needed a ride home from a party. You were drunk and couldn't drive and needed me to get you. You told me how you could always count on me. I would always be there for you. But when I told you I couldn't come get you, you lashed out. Called me selfish. Spoiled. Mad at you because you didn't want to get married and settle down. I told you again I couldn't come and hung up.That was the last time you called me until this week.

March 23, 2008.  I know the exact date because I had been in the hospital all day. I had just woken up from an emergency C section. My uterus was punctured during labor and if they hadn't gone in when they did I would have bled to death and the baby would have died as well. When my phone rang and I saw it was you I was so happy. You did care, you had to have heard and you were calling to make sure I was alright. We were alright. And then I realized you didn't have a clue."

"How was I supposed to know?"

"You could have asked. Asked a simple question, Anthony. How are you? But you didn't. And that's the second way I know you haven't changed. You haven't asked the one thing any normal person would be wondering. Was the baby a boy or a girl? So I can't help you, Anthony, it wasn't an open adoption. You are going to have to try and beat out Felicia with some other move. Now if you'll excuse me, and even if you won't, I have someplace else to be."

And with that Jeri picked up her bag and left.

When she was getting in her car her cell phone started ringing. Stealing herself to see Anthony's number on the caller id she smiled and relaxed when she saw who it really was.

"Hey, I'm on my way to pick up Joy from kindergarten, do you need me to pick up anything on the way home?"

"No, I'm good, but thanks for asking. I'll see you soon.  And, hun? I love you."

Clean up...clean up...everybody everywhere...

You know that movie or sitcom cliche where the adult goes back home for a visit and has to sleep in his or her childhood bedroom and it's not been changed? The teen idol posters on the walls, the Star Wars sheets on the bed? And then much hilarity ensues. Well this has always been amusing to me but not really identifiable as real. A few months before Brent and I got married my parents moved in to a new place and there weren't enough bedrooms for the amount of people living there. Since I was moving out in a few months I slept on the couch in the living room so I didn't even have a childhood bedroom to go back to if I had wanted to.

So today I was cleaning up C's room in prep for Corrie coming to visit next Friday (yay!) and as I dusted shelves and straightened books I thought, "This really has turned in to a time capsule." C doesn't live here any more, he visits when school is out of session. Home is his apartment in Burlington with his roommates. That place looks like a group of men in their early 20s live there. His study here is like that. Video games, computer desk, comfy chair. But his bedroom has really stopped changing since he graduated from high school.

The books on the shelves are his favorites from growing up so there are books there that he read and re-read from elementary school on through high school. There are pictures of his Benihana birthday celebrations from his middle school years. Pictures of both sets of grandparents. His first set of Mouse Ears from Disney. His trumpet and music. The rocking chair that has been his since before he was born. Now, I've noticed this before and written about it but it was a few years ago and more about how it's like he hasn't really left because his stuff is here. But now what is here is the stuff he's outgrown. It's like a giant memory box.

Brent and I have decided to stay here until C graduates and finds a job someplace then we will either move downtown or find a place closer to the coast or in the hills. Then we will pack all of his things up and send them to his new place and he will decide what he really wants to keep and what he doesn't. What bridges his past in to his future. But until that happens he can come home to sleep in the Shrine of C's Childhood. And I hope that when he does he smiles and feels pride at the awards and the honors that are framed and kept. And I hope he remembers the trip to Disney were he got that set of Mouse Ears. And the trips to Benihana when those photos were taken. And even sitting in that rocking chair silently crying when he heard about his grandfather's death.

And now when I see that old cliche played out in a movie I will smile a sad smile and know what the parents feel like every time they dust those old trophies and remember the time at Bullwinkle's when he and his buddy won enough tickets to buy that silly foam rocket launcher...

But for now, the room is clean, the sheets are freshly washed, everything is dusted and vacuumed and ready for Corrie's visit. Where the adult comes and sleeps in the childhood room and much hilarity ensues....

Well aren't you talented....

So here is a question for all of my artistic friends. Do you ever wish your talent was in another area? Or that you had more areas you were talented in, for those of you multi-hyphenates?

I can tell a story. I can sit down with you and tell you a story or I can sit here at the computer and write you one, but I know I can tell a story. If I do a good job with the story I am telling I can surprise you. I can make you feel something. I can paint you a picture with my words. But one thing I cannot do is paint you an actual picture. Or sketch you out something that you would recognize. Visual art like that is not my strength. And sometimes that's very frustrating.

Writing books for children would be so much easier if I could illustrate them myself. Kids like pictures you see. Now, I could work with other people, either ones that publisher out there who is going to say yes one of these days hooks me up with or with people I know who I could reach out to. But that's not the same. I have an idea in my head how I want things to look. How I see them. And once someone else is in charge of the visual it's not mine anymore. Because no matter how much I describe them, they will be the one who draws them and it will be different.

And then there are times like right now. I have a story in my head. It came to me the way a lot of the stories I tell do. Whole and complete and just there. The only problem is this one came as a series of pictures. I have no way of getting these pictures out of my head and on to a piece of paper like I do a written story. And it's frustrating. So instead I'm going to tell you the story. Then I am going to describe the pictures for you. And I am going to hope you can "see" what I am showing you.

There was a woman walking through the forest. Feeling the sun on her face and the breeze in her hair. She saw a tree that was larger than all of the other trees around it, with a thick trunk and branches full of leaves. She went to the tree and listened to the birds that were making their nests high in the branches. Listened the the squirrels cheeing at her and at each other. She rested her back against the trunk of the tree and wondered what it would be like to be a giant tree in a deep forest.

As she thought the tree wrapped its bark and branches around her. She leaned farther against the tree and felt the stillness of the center of tree. Hundreds of years old. Then she closed her eyes and you could no longer tell the woman from the tree.

She tilted her head and felt the sun warm her face. She felt the birds start to nest in her hair. The squirrels running up and down her arms. She breathed deeply and slowly feeling the stillness of the tree. And she stayed. The sun warming her face. The breeze cooling her skin. The rain nourishing her. And she stayed.

Then one day she opened her eyes and looked out on to the forest. She shook her head and the birds that had built their nests in her hair flew higher in to the tree top. She stretched her arms and the squirrels ran away cheeing their displeasure at her. And she stepped away from the tree. And walked on through the forest.

(visual in my head)
I see these as black and white simple sketches.

A woman in a wooded area walking up to a large tree. We only see her and the bottom of the tree. It's much bigger than other trees around her.

As she touches the tree you see a wispy branch reaching toward her as well.

She leans against the tree and you see the bark (dark shading) start to cover her from foot to head in a few frames. As it reaches her head you see her hair spread away from her head like the sun.

The next frame see the tree with her eyes peering out.

Then just the tree

Season pass. Birds nesting. Squirrels running up and down the tree. Leaves falling. snow covering the tree then leaves budding again

Then you see the tree with the eyes again.

Then she is stepping out from the tree. She is taking shape out of the shadows, the dark of the tree still holding part of her. Her hair is the last to disentangle from the tree.

The last frame as she is walking away her hair which was all light in the first frame now has dark streaks from the tree and a few leaves are trailing behind her as she walks.


Can you see it? And if you could see it without the story I told would it have meant something different to you? Would you have told your own story?

Oh how I wish I could draw.

And sing.

And dance.

And act.

But mostly I want to direct....

Whispers in the dark....

She had fallen asleep while he was in the shower. Snuggled deep in the tussle of blanket and sheets they had messed up just a few minutes earlier. The lines in her face were smooth. The crease in her forehead and the pucker around her lips that were there when she said, "I suppose you won't be staying the night" were gone now. Her breathing deep and even.  She was lovely but he knew this would probably be the last time he would see her. He had told her at the start that he only had so much to give and she, like the others before her, had said she understood. And she did for awhile. Then the subtle complaints started.

"You never spend the night."
"I never hear from you on weekends."

"Just once I wish we could spend a holiday together."

Each time his response would be a smile and "You know I can't. Let's enjoy what we can have instead of what we don't." And that would work for awhile. Until it didn't any more. He looked at her one last time. She really was lovely but she deserved someone who could love her completely and that wasn't him. He left a note on the bedside table and quietly left her apartment.

In the cab ride to his condo on the other side of town he looked at his watch. The twins would already be in bed by the time he got home. He had called Lindsey earlier and let her know he would be late tonight and to go ahead with dinner and bedtime without him. He wasn't sure if he heard a small sigh from her end of the line or if he was just imagining it. Tomorrow they would take the boys and Stacey to the museum. Stacey had a report to write on one of the travelling exhibits. He would take the boys in to the Little Explorers area while Lindsey and Stacey looked at the exhibit. Then they would all go to lunch and have a family movie night later. Stacey could write her report on Sunday while he and the boys roughhoused in the living room or maybe went to the park. Lindsey would take the day for herself while he handled all of the household things.  

He opened the front door as quietly as he could just in case the boys weren't sleeping soundly yet. He didn't want to wake them and have them get wound up again. It was almost impossible to get them back to sleep after that and the last time it had happened Lindsey had told him he was on his own getting them settled since he was the one who woke them up. It was fair, but it was still exhausting. Two four year olds with just enough sleep in them to have recharged were more than a match for a 40 year old after a long day at work and then out with a friend.

Walking through the living room he picked up a couple of empty glasses to take to the kitchen. Looking at the toys strewn all over the floor he had to smile. When he was a newly married man living in the big city he would scoff at the television sitcoms showing harried families and their disaster area homes. It would never be like that in his family. They would be perfectly behaved children who picked up their toys every night before bed and the house would be pristine. And with Stacey it was easier to keep things mostly clean, but once the boys came along they had given up on pristine and most days slightly tidy seemed like a big win.

Lindsey was sitting at the kitchen table when he walked in a book open in front of her. "Hey, how was your day?"

"Good, long, but good. And you?"

"Not bad. The twins both got gold stars in Miss Diane's class today for being excellent helpers and they also both ate all of their vegetables without any negotiating. I am not sure what they are going to ask for tomorrow from the museum gift shop but I have a feeling they are laying the groundwork for something big. Stacey started work on her project tonight. We did some research together on the internet to get started. I don't remember having this detailed of work to do when I was in the third grade, do you?"

"No but it was hard work to get her in to the best school in the city, I guess this is what we should expect. Is she enjoying the project at least?"

"Oh yes, she is. You know Stacey, she is finding it all interesting and having an excuse to get an extra 45 minutes of computer time was a treat for her. She's looking forward to the exhibit tomorrow. She asked if she could go through it with both of us. Once with me and then again with you. I told her she could ask you and see."

"I notice even optimistic Stacey didn't want to try and go through it with the boys."

"Oh no, not at all. She helped with dinner and bath times tonight. Though they are getting to the point where they can handle pretty much everything on their own. Just a quick behind the ears inspection to make sure they used soap."

"They grow up so fast. Even boys.
Okay, I'm going to go check in on Stac before she goes to bed."

He stood for a second at his daughter's door. She was lying in bed reading a book obviously engrossed in the story. Her face changing expression slightly as she read. When she noticed him standing there she put the book down and held out her arms for a hug. "Dad! You're home! I missed you today. Did you hear I helped with the boys tonight? They were really good today. I have an idea about the museum tomorrow you two could trade off watching the twins and each go through the exhibit with me. That way I can see it once for fun and once to take notes and you both get to see it that way as well. It wouldn't take much longer because the time for fun would be fast, and the boys love to play in the explorer room so they would be happy to be there."

He started to laugh. Once Stacey got talking you couldn't slow her down. All of the thoughts in her head would come out as one big rush. Like she was afraid if she didn't say everything right then she wouldn't get the chance. "Slow down, Tiger, take a deep breath. I think that's a good plan. The boys will be fine and you can soak in all there is to see. Now don't stay up too late, it's going to be a busy day tomorrow."

"Okay, Dad, just one more chapter." Stacey was already picking up her book.

He smiled, "You sound like your mother. Night, sweetie."

He couldn't say how many times he had heard, "One more chapter then I will go to sleep" One more chapter usually meant reading until I can't keep my eyes open anymore. Stacey was definitely her mother's child. Smart, pretty, kind. The boys were him but in duplicate. Action stars in their own heads. Jumping and running and taking everything apart just to see how it works. All three of them were the joys and lights of his life. 

As he left Stacey's room he saw Lindsey coming down the hallway for bed. "I thought I'd make pancakes tomorrow before we left, what do you think?"

Lindsey smiled her patient smile, "You really want to take the boys to the museum after syrup? Maybe pancakes for Sunday?"

"Oh yeah, that's a good point. Eggs and toast tomorrow I think then. We can plan on breakfast around 8 and getting to the museum when it opens at 10?"

"Sounds good to me, good night."

He bid his nanny goodnight and headed off to his room. Even after three years this was the worst part of his day. The kids were asleep. The details of life were taken care of for one more day. One more day living without his wife. One more day missing her. One more day carrying on like her death hadn't killed a part of him as well. He climbed in to bed, took the picture from his bedside table and whispered, "I love you. Good night"

Can you cut that on the bias?

It's a ranty one. Just to warn you.

Okay, so I was going to stay away from politics for awhile but I have to post something that has been bugging me for a week and I just can't hold it in anymore.  It's all about bias and how it colors your world and in particular how you are ruining things by letting it do so. Or in particular one thing. Which I will get to in a second.

Bias is really interesting to me. I'm always fascinated to see how it plays out in life. Reading yet another book right now that talks about how we make judgements based on biases that we might not even realize we have. I've read a lot of books like this. I've read a lot of articles about this. I find it incredibly interesting. I also really try to be aware of them when I am talking to people about their beliefs. The more strongly biased they are in one direction or the other the less likely you are going to be successful in changing an opinion.

I also know that I have my own biases that color my thoughts and I know that I have some I'm not even aware of. And when I become aware that I have already made a judgement about something I try to figure out if it's valid or if it's strictly my own bias. As you all know there are some things that you are never going to change my mind on. I'm strongly biased in one direction. But there are other things that I am willing to look at other ideas and ways of thinking and shift. I lean left in my politics but I am much more centrist than a lot of my other left leaning friends. And much more centrist than a lot of my right leaning friends. And because of this I feel I am in a pretty good position to tell people to stop a certain behavior that is driving me crazy. Just stop it. STOP IT.

What is it? Ruining a joke. Political jokes to be specific. I want to point out something that should be obvious but isn't. You cannot just substitute one president or prominent political figure for another and expect the joke to work. Presidents and other figures have personas. Those personas work within a joke. Last week in my feed was a joke that was popular in the Bush era with Bush as the punchline and I saw it again yesterday from someone else. It's a clever joke all about word play. I'll link it here and another version here. Now this joke is making the rounds again but with Obama substituted for Bush. And it doesn't work. Let me tell you why and it has nothing to do with politics and everything to do with personas and the story.

When you think of Weapons of Mass Destruction whose presidency do you think of? Bush or Obama? When you think of a President who would have to count on their fingers for a math problem who do you think of Bush or Obama? See? It doesn't work to drop in Obama. You can dislike the man and his policies but being a bit on the lighter side academically isn't part of his persona. It would be like if Mitt Romney had won the election and someone sent out this joke, "The Presidential luncheon took longer than planned as President Romney realized that Speaker Boehner had more croutons on his salad than Representative Pelosi and wouldn't move forward until they were redistributed equally."  Doesn't work for Romney because that's not his persona, it's Obama's.

And it works with all jokes. My brother sent me one today (the tipping point for the rant) that I originally read years ago as stupid things people ask airline employees. It was funny, even if you doubted the veracity of some of them. But being from New Mexico I can absolutely vouch for the general lack of geographical awareness of some of our fellow Americans. (It's the GIANT state between Texas and Arizona) But the version he sent me had been changed so every stupid thing was now supposedly said by a prominent Democrat in Congress. I get it, it's fun to make fun of politicians but now the joke doesn't work. It goes from being slightly unbelievable to completely unbelievable  From being a general oh my gosh, some people! To a specific, THOSE people. And it stops being funny. Because it doesn't work. It wouldn't work if you changed them all to Republicans either. I can't stand Newt Gingrich's politics, or smugness, or religious hypocrisy but I also know he's extremely smart.  A Gingrich joke has to focus on multiple marriages or overconfidence, not on a lack of IQ, or it doesn't work.

So let's all try to agree, when making jokes try very very hard to set your bias aside and make sure the joke works before you send it out.

For instance:
Jokes about chasing women: Clinton
Jokes about marrying women: Gingrich
Jokes about binders of women: Romney
Jokes about living with a lot of women: Obama
Jokes about misspelling women: Bush the Younger

My name is Denise Mastenbrook and I approve this message.

Well shoot....

Amendment II

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

reg·u·late

1.Control or maintain the rate or speed of (a machine or process) so that it operates properly.
2.Control or supervise (something, esp. a company or business activity) by means of rules and regulations.

So here it is the blog I set out to write a month ago. Or actually a month and a day. December 14th, 2012. Earlier in the week we had a shooting at a local mall and I was tired of seeing all of the same arguments being played out on my Facebook feed. So I came in to the study, sat down to write, opened my browser and...well Sandy Hook. So the blog waited while I continued to read what people thought.

The funny thing is that I actually thought for a second that Sandy Hook might change some minds, but it didn't. What it did was drive people further into their own rhetoric. Because as a country we have failed in a lot of things and on the top of the list is the ability to think. Critical thinking. We don't teach it to our kids in school. We only want them to learn what is going to be on the test so we can be #1 in the polls! Yay! We teach them that 1+1=2 but we don't teach them how to look at information and form solid thoughts and opinions around that information. We don't teach them to ask questions. And we sure as hell don't teach them to listen to answers.

Even as I am writing this I know that most of the people reading already know what they are going to say. Because it's what we do instead of discuss and reason. We toss sound bites back and forth. And the odds of you changing my mind on an issue with a clever little sound bite is the exact same as me changing yours. Take for a second the appearance of the NRA CEO on Meet the Press after Sandy Hook where he was willing to talk about whatever it would take to change the gun violence problem in our country. Well talk about everything except actually controlling access to guns that is. He was adamant about that not being something he was willing to entertain for even a second. He hit all of his soundbites. Say them along with me, Guns don't kill people, people kill people. Guns are tools. The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun....and on and on.

Which makes me roll my eyes. Don't give me trite sound bites. Don't give me slogans. Give me a real reasoned argument. Give me something I can look at and think about. And give me the respect to listen to my arguments and concerns as well.

So back to my opening. The reason I printed the Second Amendment up there is because people need to read it to talk about it and you would be so surprised how many people have never bothered to read it, or our entire Constitution for that matter. So I went ahead and put it up there for you. It's shorter than you imagined isn't it? The second thing I did is post the definition for regulate. Because this is the one that I seem to have the biggest sticking point on. Regulate means control. So why do you assume that when I talk about being pro gun control I don't know the Second Amendment?

This is where most arguments break down and people go to their corners to shout their slogans. I think we need more control. You think that means I want to take away all of your guns. No, it doesn't. It means that I think we need more control. You shout at me about cars killing people. I say, I have to have a license, insurance and registration to operate my car and if I move to a different state I have to re-register my car and renew my license there. And every few years I have to renew my license to operate my car. AND after a certain age I have to take the test to show I can safely operate my car every year. AND I am only allowed to drive a certain speed and have to obey other traffic safety laws. Because the use of my car is well regulated.

Then you tell me about knives. Well okay. Yes. Knives can kill people as well. They can also cut my steak. Or a length of rope. Or spread butter on my bread. What else can your gun do beside shoot someone or something? And if a knife is so dangerous why don't you carry that instead of a gun? Oh that's right because a gun is more dangerous. And it's true. I've been cut by other people wielding knives twice in my life. If they had shot me instead odds are I would be dead. So you are right; knives aren't as dangerous as guns. Wait, no your point was knives were just as dangerous as guns, so now I'm confused.

And we can do this all day. You give me a slogan and I break it down for you as to why it doesn't work for me. Guns don't kill people, people kill people. You are right. People kill people. Guns just make it easier for them to do it. Give me a handful of bullets and let me throw them at you it's not really going to do a lot. Not just because I have lousy aim when throwing, but because I don't have a gun. Give me a gun and a handful of bullets and let me shoot at you. Which, funny enough, I have better aim shooting than throwing. So I still sent a bullet your way. Because people are the ones to do it. But which one do you think is going to cause the damage? Guns are tools. Yes, yes they are. Tools used to shoot things.

You want a gun to defend your home. Okay. Here is a real world example I read the other day. Someone was talking about wanting and having an AR-15 because he had once had a gun held to his head and he was never going to have that happen again. He was talking to someone who was pro-gun control and asked what she would do if three guys broke in to her house because he would be prepared. And this is where it falls apart for me again. Okay, first off, you once had a gun held to your head, but you weren't shot. Scary, I get it. I have been threatened by a gun as well, terrifying. More so than the times with a knife. Much more. Because you know how close you are to death. But you weren't shot. If you had a gun as well would you have been? Would the person threatening you have been? A threat from a gun only works if you are willing to kill someone. Don't pull it unless you are willing to shoot it.

So his next step was if his home was broken in to he would be ready. Really? Would you? Say there is a group of three guys who have been planning a home invasion on your house. They are going to bust in knowing what they are after. They will have their guns ready. Will you be sitting waiting for them holding your AR-15 locked and loaded or will you be sitting on the couch wondering how those 2 Broke Girls are ever going to get their cupcake shop off the ground? Because that's the thing. Even if you do have a gun in your house your worst case panic scenario is armed men breaking in to your home and most likely that gun isn't sitting in your lap ready to go. Because that's not what you are thinking of right then. But they are. They have the jump on you. Now what?

The NRA wants an armed guard at every school. The only thing that can stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun. Because it worked so well in Columbine. See again, the bad guys are making plans for their shootings. The armed guards are protecting against the possibility that something might happen. They can't be everywhere at once. I know quite a few good guys with guns. People I would trust to protect me in case of shooting. And they are mostly law enforcement. A few former military. But people who have had significant training. And on going training. And understand what it means to be a good guy with a gun. Because their usage is well regulated. You having a gun doesn't automatically make you a good guy with a gun. It just makes you a guy with a gun.

The shooting that happened here is getting a lot of pro gun press because there was a guy at the mall with a concealed carry gun on him. He says he caught the eye of the shooter and believes that the next shot that was fired was the shooter taking his own life. So obviously the good guy with the gun won there right? Well except that we don't know that the shooter ever saw him. We don't know that the shooter didn't accidentally shoot himself while trying to un-jam his gun, another theory that is out there. But I do know that if you told me about the guy at the mall who wanted to be a cop but wasn't so instead did mall security and got a concealed carry permit and brought his gun with him shopping in a busy mall (not the one he worked at) the week before Christmas I wouldn't be so sure if you were talking about the good guy with the gun or the bad guy. But maybe that's just me.

So now you think you know where I stand on gun control. Except you don't. You know what I think when you toss your arguments at me and why they don't work for me. Except I don't think you know that either. Because I think that your opinions are so fully entrenched that you didn't really read what I wrote and filled in your own beliefs about what I believe instead.

I have family that hunts. I have no urge to take away their guns. They enjoy it. It's not for me, I prefer to get my meat the natural way, fully dressed, butchered and wrapped in saran wrap. But they hunt. I have no issue with that. They also don't use high capacity magazines and shoot round after round of bullets in to the animal because it would ruin the meat.

I have friends and family that live in rural settings. I live a mile away from a Sheriff's office. They are 20 minutes at least from help if they call. And they feel the need to protect themselves. Wild animals of the four and two legged variety. My grandfather had a rifle for this very purpose. I see the logic in that. And most of them also hunt. So they have guns for that as well.

My father-in-law was a prosecutor and my mother-in-law worked as a psychiatric nurse for troubled teens. They decided it would be a good idea to have a gun in the house because they really did work against some bad guys. They also took other steps to protect themselves. Unlisted numbers. Careful about personal information. A variety of things, because that's what it takes to really be safe, looking at all the options. But they also had a gun. Which was locked up in a gun safe when we would come to visit with C when he was a baby. Not because I'm a bad parent who didn't watch over their child or because they were careless selfish people who shouldn't have been responsible for kids, which is what you read as comments when a child dies in a gun accident. But because kids are fast and sneaky and will find the things you don't want them to quicker than you ever thought possible. Any parent who has cleaned up a lipstick mess, or a baby powder mess, or a soap mess, knows this. So while we were there, or he was there with them without us, the gun was locked away where he couldn't get it. Absolutely no good for protection against anyone else. But the only safe place for it to be when a little one was present.

Do I think any of them don't have a right to have a gun? No. I don't. I understand why they want them. I understand why they feel better having them. But does that mean I don't think we need to do something about the easy access we have to guns? No. I do. I think we need to look at our laws and see what is working and what isn't. We need to have an honest debate where reasonable people who know there is a difference between types of guns are allowed to speak about reasonable controls. We already have some laws on what you can own, so why is this different? Because you want the cool boom stick so you can look like an action hero? Too fucking bad. I want all the money in the bank but the law says I can't just walk in and take it.

The bullshit line about gun laws meaning only criminals will have guns makes me roll my eyes. Criminals break laws, does this mean we shouldn't have any? Because I am pretty sure that's not what you mean. We have laws so we have an avenue to punish those that break them. If robbing banks were illegal only criminals would be bank robbers.

Nobody is taking all of your guns. There is no way a law would be passed allowing it. So stop freaking out over a make believe problem and start looking at what the real problems are. What will it take to change things? To make all of us feel safer?

Me? I'm a Second Amendment gal all the way. Well regulated. You want a gun. Okay. You have to be a certain age to own one. It must be registered. You must be licensed. You must renew your license every few years. It must be insured. You can't just give your gun to someone else. There has to be a transfer of title and it can only go to someone who is licensed to operate that particular type of gun. You want a concealed carry permit? Okay. You must show just cause as to why you should have one. Not just because you want one, but really why do you need one? And that's a whole additional level of testing and regulating. And if you want access to a gun then we are going to have to make sure you are mentally sound. There is a lot of discussion right now that mental health is the issue, not easy access to guns. Okay, that's fine and I think fair. I think anyone who does these sorts of crimes is insane. So part of being well regulated means you get screened when you get licensed.

A lot of these are already on the books. They should be enforced. Stop with the loopholes. And if you break the law you go to jail. Your right to own a gun is gone. Forever. Will it fix the problem overnight? No. There is no answer that will fix our problems overnight. But start with something.

And if you want to shoot a more powerful gun with a bigger clip, join the Army. Though they are going to screen you for mental health issues as well. It's part of being well regulated after all.

Write this down...

"Oh my God, did you see this story on my wall?"

Grace handed her phone over to Jill to read.

As Jill read the first lines of the post she looked down to check how many people had clicked share from Grace's post and smiled.

"Six people have shared this story. This is awesome!"

"That people are sharing it? Why is that the awesome part, you haven't even read the whole story yet, it's so moving. You have to read the whole thing. I totally cried."

"I don't have to read it, I wrote it."

"You wrote it? It's about a boy and his dog. You don't have a dog and you aren't a boy. What do you mean you wrote it?"

"I wrote it. You don't have to have a dog to write about having a dog."

"But this isn't a fiction piece, this is an essay. This guy had a dog when he was little and the dog saved him from a snake and the boy thought the dog had run away but..."

"When he was older he had an accident on his motorcycle the dog came back out of the desert and barked until someone heard and came to rescue him. I told you, I know. I wrote it. I wasn't really sure if it would work or not. It seemed like it might be a little too, I don't know, improbable, but people love stories about dogs so I've found I can get away with a little more in them."

"You mean you write other things like this?" Grace was starting to think her friend Jill wasn't kidding and she actually had written the story about the boy and his dog.

"Yes, I told you I was a copywriter, what did you think I meant?"

"I thought you worked in advertising or something!"

"I do. Sort of. Marketing really. I write stories that move you, you share them, other people read them and share them. Out of everyone who shares them maybe a third go back to the website the story started on and like the page. More likes means more advertisers for the site. More shares means more likes. More likes means a bigger bonus for me and a higher price for my next piece. Last year my most shared story went out over a million times and was attributed to Thomas Jefferson, Einstein and Morgan Freeman!"

"What?" Now Grace was even more confused.

"Oh, that's when you know you've written something really good.  When you see it reposted somewhere with a famous person's name attached to it. Screen shots of those  got me a big enough bonus to pay for my trip to Hawaii."

"Okay, wait, so you write stories like this for Facebook?"

"Well, now for Facebook, my first story was actually in HiLights magazine when I was a kid. But Facebook has been a huge boon to my industry. Or at least my sub-specialty. I write sad-tivotional things. Sad but moving. Things that make you cry when you read them. Animal stories are really good for that though a good military homecoming works as well. Though you have to be really careful with those because the anti group loves to post on those that they are fake. Drives me crazy."

"But they are fake!"

"No, they aren't fake. They are real. I wrote them. They are real stories. The emotions are real, what you feel is real."

"But the people aren't real! Isn't this super cynical?"

"No, I was never really good at the cynical stuff. Which turned out good for me in the end. Before the internet the cynical stuff was a big seller. Letters to the editor, stories for kids to pass around on playgrounds, bar stories, those were big sellers, but it turns out that everyone online thinks they can write cynical so they sort of glutted the market with the amateur stuff. Every once in awhile I will run across a piece of pure cynicism and know one of ours wrote it, but not as much anymore."

"That's not what I meant, and what do you mean one of ours? Do you all work for the same people? What the hell, Jill?"

"I think most of us work for one or two companies. I work for Aesop's. They've been around for ages, but there are some that are older than them. Aesop always liked the animal stories though so it was a good fit for me. But in this day and age they can't talk, they have to be heroic without seeming too much like people. It's a fine line. Parables are tough. Each generation takes their lessons from different places and you have to go with the flow, you know? In today's day and age you have to watch out for stories that are too good to be true. Pics or it didn't happen right? Water to wine wouldn't fly today unless there was a chemist on site to verify."

"Water to wine? Are you saying that someone like you wrote that?"

"Oh, Grace, now who is being cynical?"

"You didn't really answer me."

"But it doesn't matter, that's my point. The story about the boy and his dog? You read it, it moved you, you thought it was lovely, you shared it. Other people read it, they were touched, they shared it. That's what's important. You were moved. You probably sent your brother a nice note or gave your dog an extra treat after you read it as well."

"Both, actually."

"See? That's my point. It's all real. Are you telling me you cried when Dumbledore died because you thought he was a real person? Or was he just real to you in that moment? When you go to a movie do you watch it thinking, 'I will like this less because it's fiction.' or do you just enjoy it for what it is?"

"But I thought this was a true story. Now it's not as moving. Now I will wonder if everything I am reading is fake. It won't be as special because it's not true."

"But what does it matter? If it moved you then who cares if it's true? You sound like an anti."

"What the hell is an anti?"

"My theory is they are all of the out of work cynic writers. They are the ones you see posting on a really cool photograph 'shopped' or in the comments of a wonderfully crafted story,'snopes says this never happened' I can't prove it but I am pretty sure snopes itself is run by antis. They are the bane of my existence. They can stop a sharing train right in its tracks. So freaking annoying. You spend all day working on a piece to get just the right balance between freaky cat and helpful cat and one of them ruins it!"

At that point Grace started to laugh. "Oh my God, you've totally been pulling my leg haven't you?"

Jill smiled at her friend, "Yeah, totally. Come on, I had you going for a minute though didn't I?"

"You did! I always fall for your stories!
 I have to go use the restroom, I'll be right back."

As Grace walked to the bathroom Jill checked her phone. The story was up to 12 shares just from Grace's page now. She signaled the bartender, "Next round is on  me!"