The world is going through some ridiculous times, and it needs to end.
I don’t know what the solution is to the drug problem (and by “drug problem” I mean people ending up dead, badly injured, or committing crimes—which is a pretty generous definition if you ask me). Right now I’m so upset about the NYC incident that I’m ready to lock people up, throw away the key, and make them eat nothing but soggy lettuce for the rest of their lives. Right now I’m not open to the idea of second chances.
I saw a post from a mom on Facebook soon after the episode. She was pointing out (publicly) that children who live near (meaning within 125 miles) catastrophes should immediately report to their mothers that they are fine. And if for some reason they don’t report in, they should not be surprised/upset/mortified/indignant/confused when their mother calls them to be sure they are OK. It’s what we do. Because you never know what might have possessed a child to travel 125 miles for a particular bagel that day.
The point is, somewhere there is a mother who is not reassured that her kid is ok. There is a mother who can’t be consoled. There are parents and friends and children and spouses rushing to emergency rooms to be with the injured. Meanwhile, the driver has a history of drunk driving. And he was arrested just last week for threatening someone with knife.
We need fewer of these stories (not because they shouldn’t be reported but because they shouldn’t happen) and more stories like this one of a survivor baby otter.
I hope, I wish, I pray someone from your generation figures out how to fix things. Our generation hasn’t. Hopefully, yours is smarter.