A Day in the Life

Are you as angry as I am?

I begin this blog at 7:17 a.m. on a workday.

6:53 a.m. The anger started as I was leaving the house to drive to work with the montage of the Boston Marathon tragedy playing in my mind.  What should have been a 6 minute commute became 16 minutes as various other angry drivers were in mechanization overdrive due to construction, detours, and all around insanity on the roadways.

7:45. A co-worker mentions that his family lives in Boston and wonders how can these devastations continue like in Newtown and other countless schools or events?  Someone else mentions the recently found pipe bombs at a local storage facility in Malvern and the ‘detonation’ of them nearby in the middle of the night which was felt all the way to Newtown Square. Still angry.

8:30. I’m in line to purchase my daily coffee and someone ahead of me is impatiently yelling at the coffee carafe, the cashier, and anyone else forced to listen.  Why?  I guess because it was almost empty, not hot enough, too hot or because the day ends in the letter ‘y’.  Anger slows to a boil.

10:00. We find out some distressing news about a former colleague and his family.  Anger gone.  Sadness sets in.

11:30. Lunch with co-workers creates a conversational tableau of “what is this world coming to?” to “when is it going to end?” to “you can get the instructions to build them online.” Sadness turns to confusion.

12:37 p.m. Driving back to work involves more angry drivers, detours, and finger messaging from others.  I’m tuned into The Beatles singing, “Help!”

1:11. Someone mentions that they ran into a former student of mine who was asking about what I’m up to all these years later.  I am reminded of Columbine--4/20/99—eons ago.  I was in the classroom then.  Horrified watching the news update as it unfolded.  Surrounded by 11th graders.  I remember feeling like Mother Goose and spreading my wings to protect them all.  Inwardly thinking, “what is the world coming to?” and being more sad than angry.  And, secretly hoping, “it can’t get any worse.”

2:42. Co-worker says/does something silly-wonderful.  We’re all laughing with tears running down our faces.  I pop a couple Tootsie Rolls in my mouth and savor the sweetness of the moment.

3:19. The work is busy, I’m distracted. Wait, the phone is ringing again.

4:45. Homework.  Questions about segregation, the Civil Rights movement, and freedoms earned painfully. “Why did it take so long?  Why is it always our country? Why do we keep repeating history?”  All this from a 3rd and 6th grader.  Sigh.  Disillusionment.

5:22. Cooking dinner for my family. Washing dishes.  Finding the cat that flew outside to chase a windswept leaf. I hear children laughing in the background.  They weren’t even born until after 9/11.  They don’t remember a time when you could easily walk up to the plane’s gate with tubes and bottles in your carry on and with your shoes still on tied tightly. Memories.

6:30-7:30. Bathtime.  Reading time.  Kung Fu Panda cartoon.  No news.  No images to produce nightmares.  Quietness begins.

9:42. Laundry put away.  Children asleep (hopefully with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads).  Minor crisis-es averted: “he’s touching my stuff,”  “she stole my favorite stuffed animal,” “mom, I can’t find my________________________(fill in the blank yourself).”  I’ve visited Facebook and online news but can’t avoid seeing recaps for the day: more images of tragedy, more politicizing about increasing violence, more dispute regarding wars, countries, religion, government, money, families, the world. All with such anger.  Rage.  Frenzy. Hysteria. Madness.

9:44. Open cd drive.  Insert disc.  Press play.  Listen. 

9:45. “All you need is Love.”

9:48. All is calm.

Now.  You’re reading this.

Are you as _________________________as I am? (fill in the blank yourself).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skCADm40EBE