A Week in September

I apologize for my almost-absence last week. Like everyone else I know, I was battered and bruised by the grief of what has happened lately. I am reminded every day of the words from Gordon Lightfoot's "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald." Remember? When the gales of November come early.

Not that the things we mourned during the sad September week were an actual shipwreck, but the events of both past and present did come like the storms over Lake Superior that left 29 people dead and so many more mourning.

We are all hurt ... lessened in so many ways ... by the events of Nine Eleven, by yet another school shooting, by the shocking killing of Charlie Kirk, by the death of a beloved actor, by the threat to things we've long taken for granted.

When Nine Eleven happened, we virtually all grieved for those lives lost and those families forever changed. We flew the stars and stripes defiantly and in unison. The country that was attacked was ours--it belonged to all of us.

School shootings are the same. Except that they're not. While everyone is sorry they happen and perfectly willing to blame whatever demographic they don't like for the increasing occurrences of them, no one is willing to fix what is broken.

For my own peace of mind, I want to talk about the First Amendment here, in the worst way, because I am so afraid of losing it entirely. As surely as my vote doesn't count and will even count for less with this new round of gerrymandering, if the First Amendment is not protected, my voice will not only be unpopular but silenced as well. As will others, of much more value that what the Window offers on Saturdays. More than one friend has suggested I be careful, and I've tried, but honestly ... aren't you scared, too?

Picture swiped from Krissy Carter with thanks.

On a happier note, we had supper at Southside B & K tonight. They're closing soon, and we wanted to get another hot dog visit in. They were packed--even all the picnic tables were full! We waited a while, but it was so worth it. Our server, who was running her legs off, was friendly and repeated our order to make sure it was right. We asked if she'd miss her job when B & K closed for the season and she said, "Oh, a lot!" I said I thought working and going to school was a lot. She smiled and said she had another job, too.

Art by Sarah Luginbill, won by an audience member at Open Mic on Thursday night.

On Thursday night, we went to Gallery 15 for open mic night. It's a small group sometimes, and was then, but it's a place of friends, of art, of music. It's a place for learning, for conversation, and for laughter. It is one of the best things in a small town.

Tonight we drove past our school, where a home football game was going on. The score didn't look promising, but the crowd of vehicles did. We have special memories of Tim Dubois Field. It is a place where character and camaraderie are built, where generations take steps into adulthood. It's a place--and I apologize for being a little marshmallowy here--where love lives.

These kids, the ones on football fields and in classrooms and working two jobs and taking art or ukulele lessons at Gallery 15--they are the best things their parents will ever do. We need to protect them, and we need to protect their freedom.

Have a good week. Be nice to somebody.