My Menopausal Musings

This week a troubled young man first shot and killed his mother then killed twenty children and six more women at a nearby elementary school. The facts are still unfolding. What we do know is that the killer shot his way into the school. We know that six of his murder victims were women devoted to the care and education of children. We know twenty children, hoping Santa would visit them soon, were murdered before they had even lost all of their baby teeth. The killer used a semi-automatic weapon to inflict multiple wounds on all of his victims at the school. Semi-automatic weapons. As I struggle to make sense of the tragic shootings in our nation over the last several years, I grow more tired of self-important politicians; political pundits and shock jocks ricocheting through the airwaves like so many bullets the language of hate and fear.   Banning semi-automatic weapons will not end the tradition of the first Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas.

We the people of the United States of America seem to have lost our way.   While it is true we stand far apart on the issues that face our troubled nation, what I find troubling is our inability to have an open dialogue about what is most important. It is not the first time in our history the people have been at odds, nor is it the last, but I am finding the recent loss of civility to be distressing. For those of you who don’t know me well, or at all, I am a typical baby boomer. An odd combination of Janis Joplin, The Monkees and Stevie Wonder form the soundtrack of my early years. The Vietnam War, civil rights, space travel and Andy Griffith helped shape me. My father was a career military man, a proud NCO in the US Air Force, and I was raised on domestic military installations.   I always stand for our National Anthem and am appalled by those who cheer at ball games before the song is over. I cringe at tattered flags flapping on car w

The cyber dating world can be a funny place. This afternoon I received a playful (and a little bit forward) e-mail from a prospective date. When I opened his profile I knew in a second that it was someone I met 3 years ago. Our first date was not good, but I decided to respond. These things can take time. To my chagrin, he had absolutely no memory of having met. Good, bad or indifferent, I remember the most ridiculous details of life's smallest moments. I goaded him on. We exchanged a few e-mails and I supplied him with details of our meeting. Finally, the light bulb when off. He remembered! How could this quirky little man have forgotten who I was? What he remembered had nothing to do with my memory of our one and only date. He took the opportunity of my response to tell me how grand he had been and how awful I was. I have no idea how long it took him to compose his missive, but wonder why he bothered to expend the energy. I suppose I could have let sleeping dogs lie, but