“Cat got your tongue?” a smart-talking blog follower asked.
“I like to depend on getting a dose of what you’re thinking, but you’re pulling the same old trick from before,” said an irritated correspondent.
Since cliches are in order, I’ll throw in “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything.”
My mother tried teaching me that one but it didn’t work. From my early days, life programmed me to live by the code that not only recognizes, but points out, that the “Emperor is not wearing clothes.”
In Iraq, children with their parents are fleeing to the mountains in order not to be massacred. In Palestine, children are a high percentage of the civilian death toll brought on by the war between Israel and Hamas.
Nothing good to be said here. Nothing I can say about the savagery. Even with an in-depth knowledge of Middle East politics, which I don’t have, there is nothing to be said.
Central American children fleeing to America? Politics? War? This isn’t what I envisioned when I determined to focus my writing on parenting.
Ah, it’s back to school time. Where are the best places to shop for those bargains that will keep Deondre, Jose, and Michael dressed in style and keeping in step with the rest of the student crowd?
Michael Brown, shot dead by the police in Ferguson, Missouri, won’t ever have the chance to shop.
Other young Black men who are now part of the civil unrest in that city are going to, as always, have their chances lessened.
During my days as a columnist for the Pasadena Star News I took my weekly writings seriously. My mother passed away and I met my deadline but the editor didn’t run the column that week.
Respect – he called it.
There’s plenty of space here for readers’ comments. This week, it’s your turn to talk back.
You tell me!