Charlie, Charlie, where have you gone?

I wanted to wait 24 hours before addressing the Charlie Kirk assassination.

First, thoughts and prayers. Yes, that is me being cynical.

Second, I am appalled and saddened by this act of violence. Violence is never the answer to political discourse. Violence is not the answer to anything. Not ever.

Third: I see the conservatives bemoaning a death of one of their own, BUT where was their anguish and outrage when Minnesota State Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband Mark (and their family dog) were gunned down in their home on June 14? President Trump could hardly be bothered to comment on that tragedy.

Trump has ordered flags flown at half mast. Did he do the same for Representative Hortman? Trump announced today he is going to posthumously award Kirk the Congressional Medal of Freedom.

No comment.

Fourth, i despise just about everything Kirk stood for. He was a divisive as many others of his political party, particularly Mr. Agent Orange.

Do I feel sorry for Kirk? A bit, yes. I feel sorry for any victim of gun violence. Who I really feel sorry for are those left behind—Kirk’s wife and his two young children. I feel sympathy for the hundred in his audience who witnessed this act firsthand.

Fifth, we are a torn, wounded, suspicious society. No one trusts the perceived other side. Funny, I thought we were Americans, not bitter enemies.

The gun violence plaguing our nation will not go away, nor will it cease with just thoughts and prayers.

We wuv woo, Tom

 

 

Our good friend Tom passed away earlier this evening after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer six weeks ago. Our thoughts are with Roger, his husband of eight years.

As you might surmise from the photo (my favorite of the two of them), Tom loved to ham it up. He loved to laugh. He loved telling jokes--all too often--VERY corny ones. And we loved to laugh with him. On numerous occasions, Tom and I would get into nonstop giggling that could last five to ten minutes. We'd laugh, we'd stop, we'd take one look at another and start giggling all over again.

Tom and I made a game of tormenting one another with puns, insults made in jest, always ending with a show of loving affection for the other.

Earlier tonight, Stephen and I visited Tom. As we left, we told him we loved him and that he need not linger on for us. I truly believe a person can hear everything said to them, even when in an apparent vegetative state. We told him we would care for Roger in his absence. We think he needed to hear that.

When we left the hospice, we both agreed we might not see Tom again. I told Stephen the next time I saw him I would have to say to him our usual retort... wuv woo.

Tom, we wuv woo.