My good friend called the other night. He asked about my travel plans this year. I had not given it too much thought. Normally, at this time every year I am all booked and ticketed, or at least seriously thinking of itineraries.
But somehow, the thought of a 15-hour flight does not thrill me at the moment. It involves too much restless time. I count the sleepless nights before the trip, the time spent at airports suffering security checks, luggage inspections, pat downs and waiting out delays. It seems a little too much for a little old lady like me.
But I have sand in my shoes, and the idea of travel and seeing my loved ones on the other side of the globe fills me with such joyful anticipation. I think maybe I can swing another jaunt.
The itinerary would definitely include Seattle, Florida, Atlanta, Vancouver, and maybe even Hawaii. It would be lovely if I could bring a traveling companion. But the visa situation is not too encouraging. Should I even try?
Valentine’s Day postscript
What did I do on the night of hearts? I thought you’d never ask. I was at Solaire to catch four very talented singers doing “Love Pinoy Style” at the Eclipse Lounge. Directed by Audie Gemora, the show featured Cris Villonco Valderrama, Carla Guevarra Laforteza, Sheila Valderrama Martinez and Gian Magdangal doing strictly OPM numbers. Delightful repertoire. Awesome singers.
One sour note: At the table next to ours, there were two ladies (and I’m being kind) who should have either stayed home or gone to a beer garden. Rude. Uncouth. Enough said.
Another tragedy
When I heard the news, my blood ran cold. All I knew was that the shooting happened in a high school in Florida. I thought of my granddaughter, a senior, a bright-eyed, diligent young woman, full of dreams. Oh my God. My brain could not take the rest of the story.
After what seemed an eternity, I learned it was not in her high school and that it didn’t happen in her town. I was overjoyed to hear she was not in harm’s way. My relief made me feel a little guilty in light of the horror suffered by the victims and their families.
It was painful to see the raw emotions of the parents unleashed on television. The anguished cries of one mother made me weep. Her daughter was only 14. She lashed out at the President of the United States. She screamed her desperation.
I caught interviews of students and teachers who had escaped the wrath of the shooter. In tears, they bravely faced the cameras and vented their anger not on the killer, but on politicians. The common thread in their messages: “We have had enough of your ‘thoughts and prayers.’ Do something.”
No safe place
A father spoke about the daily routine with his daughter before she left for school. He talked about how she sometimes rushed out and about, and some days he had more time with her to chat or hug a little. He wept as he tried to remember if he had told her “I love you” before she left that particular morning. A couple of hours later, she was killed.
As of last count, there were 17 people dead, 14 of them in their teens, just starting out in life.
Is there no safe place anymore?
It is chilling to see metal detectors in schools, but they are placed there supposedly to protect the children. Still, the shootings continue.
Deranged people still have access to guns and can buy them without any trouble. And they breeze past security checks, carrying their own private arsenals, and open fire at random just to get their jollies, for the thrill of seeing people cower in fear, the sight of blood spilling, bodies falling.
What have we become?
Battle cry
The young people from Marjory Stoneman High School have decided not to sit idly and mourn. They are calling for all students across the United States to stand up and “March for Our Lives.”
The number of those railing against the lobby for the National Rifle Association (NRA) is growing, even more so against the politicians who get donations from the NRA. The kids aim to keep the momentum of their anger going. “We will be the last mass shooting” is their battle cry.
But will time and rhetoric once again pour a salve on their pain and lull them into believing that this tragedy is just another sign of the times?
We are hearing it now. “This is today’s world. There are crazies out there. Just lock them up.”
Others suggest carrying firearms to school. Can you imagine making sure your kids are armed and dangerous instead of checking on their lunch and homework? Can you picture them going to school in combat gear?
The answer?
I saw a post online the other day. A concerned student asked: “God, why do you allow so much violence in our schools?”
God’s reply: “I am not allowed in your schools.”
Ouch.
Once upon a time there was prayer in every American public school. They prayed right after reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, which incidentally, contains the phrase, “one nation under God.”
And then it happened. God and prayer suddenly became politically incorrect.
And all hell broke loose.