Enough is enough...there isn't, and never can be, an acceptable reason for anyone to take the life of their child...or anyone else's child.
It seems not a day goes by anymore that the news isn't telling of a parent who has violated the sacred trust of a child...ignoring all the rules of humanity, defying common decency...not satisfied with stealing their very tender breath...but doing it in a fashion that would leave a seasoned soldier, experienced with the possibility of death, cringing to the very core.
Tragic...yes.
But also tragic are those that find excuses for these unworthy bearers of life.
Families of some of these children (and perhaps grown-up friends that these children may have thought to be wise) for their own lack of courage and fear of guilt by association, refuse to face the sad reality that a person they knew, liked, or might even have loved, was capable of such unspeakable cruelty, offer up pathetic excuse after excuse. All too often these cowards, that dare admit same, will utter 'she/he was such a good parent', loved her/his children dearly', 'put their children above all else', 'was a devoted parent.'
No no no...none of that is true...loving parents are never so selfish that they would deny their children their own time in the sun...the right to grow old...the right to decide which paths they will follow...the right to simply inhale the next moment in time.
I, unfortunately, do know a woman that stole her two children's lives. Children so young and innocent that their greatest decision was which toy to play with...that simple decision never to be decided again.
Never again, do I see a mother pushing a stroller, with another child skipping alongside her, that I don't think of Kara and Randy...unaware that in a very short time...this woman they knew as mother...would brutally...selfishly...make this their last moments without fear...ending their lives before they have even crossed a street by themselves.
It's been a few years now...but August will never again be the same...I will never again think that all is well just because it appears to be.
I promise never to feel tolerant or allow any excuse for violating the rights of a child (any child) or bringing unimaginable fear to their very fiber.
Kara and Randy deserved to outlive their mother...it was their right, unless called by God...their mother didn't just fail them...or 'lovingly' take their lives...she destroyed all their innocent perceptions of love...even bitter divorces don't usually accomplish that.
Please...next time you read/hear of a child betrayed...stand up for that child and allow no excuse...feel no pity for the 'loving' parent that selfishly wants to redefine loving...they are the essence of evil.
Peace, to you, yours, and mine,
Claire / OWW
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Friday, August 6, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Ode to a gnat...
There before me lies this blank page...is it crying for enrichment or just silent in the moment.
Does one leave their comfort zone in search of comfort...looking to the faces of the unknown as thought there be a return to the long-ago familiar sound of everyday.
Summer sounds of bouncing balls, shrieks of glee, from youth at play...win or lose, on a summer day...
Burgers, dogs & watermelon, sipping icy drinks & more...soda, water, showers too.
Crowds of people all around, conversations so profound...no one notices who's around.
Kites are soaring above the grass, while some still lying in the grass - but still great joy for those that try.
Little gnats all abound, swatting one does leave its note...but not in word...how do I say, never again will that little gnat bite...I've given end to it's very life.
Sneakers, sandals, running shoes, flip-flops adorned with little jewels...barefoot dancers lose their shoes.
Young and old and in between...no one minds what will be seen.
Scooters, bikes and hoola-hoops, picnic tables for those who cook.
It's sunny and hot...tall and leafy shaded trees welcome in the faintest breeze.
Flags are flying, none half-mast...glorious monuments of wars that passed.
These are the signs of living life...no tricks of cameras needed here...the planet holds her own so clear.
Does one leave their comfort zone in search of comfort...looking to the faces of the unknown as thought there be a return to the long-ago familiar sound of everyday.
Summer sounds of bouncing balls, shrieks of glee, from youth at play...win or lose, on a summer day...
Burgers, dogs & watermelon, sipping icy drinks & more...soda, water, showers too.
Crowds of people all around, conversations so profound...no one notices who's around.
Kites are soaring above the grass, while some still lying in the grass - but still great joy for those that try.
Little gnats all abound, swatting one does leave its note...but not in word...how do I say, never again will that little gnat bite...I've given end to it's very life.
Sneakers, sandals, running shoes, flip-flops adorned with little jewels...barefoot dancers lose their shoes.
Young and old and in between...no one minds what will be seen.
Scooters, bikes and hoola-hoops, picnic tables for those who cook.
It's sunny and hot...tall and leafy shaded trees welcome in the faintest breeze.
Flags are flying, none half-mast...glorious monuments of wars that passed.
These are the signs of living life...no tricks of cameras needed here...the planet holds her own so clear.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Mario Carazo and James Weis...inherit the universe On July 22, 2010...
And you Dotzie...reminding me this night of Mario...a son of someone...a dear friend of another...another young man with dreams larger then the living universe.
I am reminded of this young man...Mario Carazo...a cadet at Annapolis...blessed with the friendship of Sarah...who would take him and other young men into her home when home for them was far away. He was gracious and charming...and dared to show off his appreciation of Sarah by showing her visiting aging friends around the town. We laughed with him, we danced with him, we admired his determination...and when the evening was ended we bid Mario good-bye, thanking him for his time and wishing him the best of the best.
It's years later now...and Mario should be sharing with Sarah his tales of growing up...but that won't be. He has not another day to share his thoughts, concerns, good days, or even tough days. His story is only to be retold in memory by those whose life he touched...
Mario was sent to Afghanistan...it was there, on July 22, 2010, he was to hear the voice of God...calling him home...not to Springfield Ohio...not to the shores we all share...but to the warmth of eternity. God blessed Mario with the gift of remembrance by many...good memories of a young man with dreams larger then the universe...and, in particular, by a few aging friends of Sarah.
And, on that same day, another young man would hear his name whispered... James Weis...a son of the great state of New Jersey...a Jersey shore kid...he would no longer lounge on the edge of the surf...no longer inhale the scent of ocean breezes or the smell of Barnegat Bay. He will be remembered though...each and every time his name is mentioned...his memorabilia of youth passed touched or passed on for safe-keeping to someone dear...he thrives in eternity with all others that heard their name whispered and stopped the very breath they were to inhale and returned to the Father.
I am reminded of this young man...Mario Carazo...a cadet at Annapolis...blessed with the friendship of Sarah...who would take him and other young men into her home when home for them was far away. He was gracious and charming...and dared to show off his appreciation of Sarah by showing her visiting aging friends around the town. We laughed with him, we danced with him, we admired his determination...and when the evening was ended we bid Mario good-bye, thanking him for his time and wishing him the best of the best.
It's years later now...and Mario should be sharing with Sarah his tales of growing up...but that won't be. He has not another day to share his thoughts, concerns, good days, or even tough days. His story is only to be retold in memory by those whose life he touched...
Mario was sent to Afghanistan...it was there, on July 22, 2010, he was to hear the voice of God...calling him home...not to Springfield Ohio...not to the shores we all share...but to the warmth of eternity. God blessed Mario with the gift of remembrance by many...good memories of a young man with dreams larger then the universe...and, in particular, by a few aging friends of Sarah.
And, on that same day, another young man would hear his name whispered... James Weis...a son of the great state of New Jersey...a Jersey shore kid...he would no longer lounge on the edge of the surf...no longer inhale the scent of ocean breezes or the smell of Barnegat Bay. He will be remembered though...each and every time his name is mentioned...his memorabilia of youth passed touched or passed on for safe-keeping to someone dear...he thrives in eternity with all others that heard their name whispered and stopped the very breath they were to inhale and returned to the Father.
Bravery is not to be learned...it's simply a part of who a person is...not discovered till time calls upon them for exhibition...
Peace...to you, yours and mine,
Claire / OWW
Monday, January 26, 2009
Another cold day in Jersey...
Then again, it is winter.
As I'm driving home from work today I must have hit 4 lights...now not for anything but I don't even live that far from my office. If you asked me how long my commute is I would tell you five minutes. Some days I even feel guilty when I see others all bundled up and bracing themselves against the wind...but not guilty enough to want to join them!
I can remember when I first started working...commuting was exciting. I lived in New Jersey and like most kids that lived just a train ride from the big city (New York) my first job would be in downtown Manhattan. Now this was when they were just beginning to break ground for the World Trade Center. At that time when you took the Path train over to NY the underground terminals were damp and dreary...not to mention the unbearable smells on hot humid days or when water that would seep onto the tracks from the stairways leading to/from the street. But, when you are young, none of that matters, even though back then women didn't wear sneakers or long pants to work.
My first job back then was with a company that made...are you ready...nuclear reactors. Most people paid little attention to nuclear anything back then till a little mishap called Three Mile Island. Then it was all downhill. Changed my job after a few years (but still traveled by Path and watched the building of the WTC continue.) Darn, I think back then most of those in construction worked in that area...well, at least it seemed that way to this teenager. My friends and I would walk pass and pretend we didn't hear the calling out of guys that just wanted to make their presence known. Gee, those guys back then really did work hard...they were pretty proud of the work they were doing.
I can remember the excitement in my mom's voice when she spoke of this huge complex of buildings. She was so awed by the idea that people from all over the world would be working within the same buildings...this was monumental to her...she had never really ventured far from home back then. She asked if I would look apply for a job with one of the companies within...I told her no. I never did like large buildings...at least not being inside them.
It was bad enough that the job I did have at the time was on the 8th floor of a building on Trinity and Rector. The only thing that made that job (nuclear guys) wonderful was it's proximity to Battery Park. I use to love going to the concerts there at lunchtime...or shopping on Maiden Lane...what a madhouse...the street narrow and crowded with one store after another and vendor upon vendor selling their wares.
It would be years before I moved 'uptown' and went from crowded narrow streets to the grand wideness of 42nd and Fifth Avenue. Best part of uptown was the museums...it just didn't have that same flavor of the Wall Street crowd.
To this day I am in touch from time to time with people I knew back then. It's a wonderful world we live in. I never met a person that I wasn't genuinely happy to have met...even if later I might change my mind...it would always be a new venture into a little part of someplace that I hadn't been or might never be.
And so it is with the world of cyberspace...we will meet people and for a brief moment in time they will show us a little bit of their space on this wonderful planet...and, if we are lucky, they will become people years from now that we will still be in touch with, from time to time.
Have a wonderful evening...
OWW/Claire
As I'm driving home from work today I must have hit 4 lights...now not for anything but I don't even live that far from my office. If you asked me how long my commute is I would tell you five minutes. Some days I even feel guilty when I see others all bundled up and bracing themselves against the wind...but not guilty enough to want to join them!
I can remember when I first started working...commuting was exciting. I lived in New Jersey and like most kids that lived just a train ride from the big city (New York) my first job would be in downtown Manhattan. Now this was when they were just beginning to break ground for the World Trade Center. At that time when you took the Path train over to NY the underground terminals were damp and dreary...not to mention the unbearable smells on hot humid days or when water that would seep onto the tracks from the stairways leading to/from the street. But, when you are young, none of that matters, even though back then women didn't wear sneakers or long pants to work.
My first job back then was with a company that made...are you ready...nuclear reactors. Most people paid little attention to nuclear anything back then till a little mishap called Three Mile Island. Then it was all downhill. Changed my job after a few years (but still traveled by Path and watched the building of the WTC continue.) Darn, I think back then most of those in construction worked in that area...well, at least it seemed that way to this teenager. My friends and I would walk pass and pretend we didn't hear the calling out of guys that just wanted to make their presence known. Gee, those guys back then really did work hard...they were pretty proud of the work they were doing.
I can remember the excitement in my mom's voice when she spoke of this huge complex of buildings. She was so awed by the idea that people from all over the world would be working within the same buildings...this was monumental to her...she had never really ventured far from home back then. She asked if I would look apply for a job with one of the companies within...I told her no. I never did like large buildings...at least not being inside them.
It was bad enough that the job I did have at the time was on the 8th floor of a building on Trinity and Rector. The only thing that made that job (nuclear guys) wonderful was it's proximity to Battery Park. I use to love going to the concerts there at lunchtime...or shopping on Maiden Lane...what a madhouse...the street narrow and crowded with one store after another and vendor upon vendor selling their wares.
It would be years before I moved 'uptown' and went from crowded narrow streets to the grand wideness of 42nd and Fifth Avenue. Best part of uptown was the museums...it just didn't have that same flavor of the Wall Street crowd.
To this day I am in touch from time to time with people I knew back then. It's a wonderful world we live in. I never met a person that I wasn't genuinely happy to have met...even if later I might change my mind...it would always be a new venture into a little part of someplace that I hadn't been or might never be.
And so it is with the world of cyberspace...we will meet people and for a brief moment in time they will show us a little bit of their space on this wonderful planet...and, if we are lucky, they will become people years from now that we will still be in touch with, from time to time.
Have a wonderful evening...
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OWW/Claire
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