I remember....

Like many others, where I was when the Twin Towers went down will forever be branded into my mind.

I was sitting in my ninth grade English teacher's class chatting with her before the bell rang. She always kept CNN on in the morning, and all of a sudden, there were reports of an airplane crashing into the World Trade Center. I specifically remember saying out loud  "Oh my God; what a horrible accident." When the second plane hit, we both realized it was not an accident. And that's when the entire world changed.

Every television in our school was on that day. No one assigned school work. We just sat. And watched. Quietly. Our entire state was on high alert because of the nearby military bases, and as we saw the buildings fall, knew that there were people still inside, we began to realize that there was more to worry about than what we were wearing for homecoming. We saw true heroism. We saw those willing to risk their lives for others and for their country.

The last three years of law school, I have had the same professor read my class a transcript of what occurred on Flight 93: about the group of people that chose to fight their hijackers and died in a Pennsylvania field, rather than in Washington, D.C., when their plane crashed. The strength of the human spirit never fails to amaze me, and that story has never become trite.

It may have occurred ten year ago, when I was only 14 years old, but I remember.

And I will never forget.

Norway = No Way

A man has killed over 90 people in Norway. Seven were (presumably) adults. The others were young adults. I do not call them children, although many will. This man looked into the eyes of his victims, and pulled the trigger. He shot them at random, then finished with a "kill shot" to the back of the head with a shotgun...just to make sure they were dead. He shot them as they were running away. He shot some while they were swimming away. As they were on an island, he was able to pick off a vast majority of these youth like sitting ducks. He did it while wearing a police uniform, causing many of his victims to run toward him seeking help. He gunned them down too. And he called his deeds "gruesome but necessary."

This is horrifying, sickening, and very, very sad. What's more so?

The fact that Norway does not believe in the death penalty or even in life sentences. So for killing over 90 people, most of them not even the age of majority, he is looking at twenty-one years. 

Let me repeat that, in case you're afraid you just had a mini-seizure and misinterpreted what I wrote:

THE MAXIMUM SENTENCE THIS MAN IS LOOKING AT IS TWENTY ONE FUCKING YEARS.

I know many were infuriated over the Casey Anthony matter, but THIS is truly appalling. The comparisons stop here, because this man has admitted to his crimes. As he is only 31 years old, he will be released from prison before he is even an old man.

That is not just. It is not right.

And I'm not sure how anyone can remedy this situation, absent vigilantism. (Which I NEVER advocate, although I really liked that movie "Law Abiding Citizen.")

In memory of Donna K

I went to a funeral today for a woman I've known most of my life. She was an incredible mother, wife, and friend. She treated those around her with respect, displayed remarkable candor, and never made excuses for those around her or blamed others for her mistakes. She was strong, charismatic, and dependable. In short, she was a true Steel Magnolia. It's always difficult to say goodbye to someone like that, because regardless of how long it had been since you spoke to her, you knew that you could always pick up the phone and she would answer and be there for you. Miss Donna K will be greatly missed by anyone who had the pleasure of knowing her.

Some of my earliest memories of Miss Donna go back to when I was a child. She would often come by my mom's place of business, because she liked to talk and, well, Maxine certainly isn't short on words either. She had two kids a few years older than me and my brother, and sometimes her daughter would come over to "babysit." We went by her house often, and as I grew up, she was always there in some capacity. Even as a child I knew she had diabetes, and often heard my mom chide her about eating candy, which was her vice. She got sick occasionally, and I seem to remember a couple of times when my mom visited her in the hospital when her diabetes got out of hand. Even battling this disease, she was always there, always funny and vocal, and seemingly invincible. She raised her two kids without a husband, sometimes struggled with but always seemed to make ends meet, and loved her grandkids to pieces.

Today my mom and I were talking today about some of our memories of Donna. The first time she met my brother (Cyd) and me, we were about 3 and 4. He apparently stomped on her foot because she teased him about something (and him being Cyd, and pretty damn mean, reacted as he was wont to do). She looked at him, then stomped his foot right back. I'm pretty sure that earned Cyd's undying respect, and he came today to pay those respects beside me and Maxine. My mom and I were able to laugh through our sadness, because that was Donna in true form and how we prefer to remember her.

I know her mother, who made several Easter dresses (and Civil War dresses, for that matter) for me when I was a child. I know her sisters, who grew up with my dad, and whose children I played with when I was a child. I know her children, who are now grown up and have children of their own. And all I could do today was tell them how sorry I was for their loss. And words just didn't seem to be enough for this incredible person. Words will never be enough to express how much she will be missed.