Tag: suzette

  • Lost Friends

    Lost Friends

    They say that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. That makes sense. There were people who shared difficult times with me, people who helped me and who helped shape me into the person I became, people that I was able to help in some way, and people who will remain in my heart forever, even if they’re gone.

    I envy people who are still close friends with people they went to school with; how you must trust them like family. Sadly, few people in my high school would even remember me. It isn’t totally my fault though – at sixteen I had to leave my foster home suddenly and the next several years are best described as a nightmare.

    Thinking back over the years, I’ve come to realize that I lose people. For no particular reason except that life moved on and we lost touch.

    It’s easy to lose people. One of us moves away, gets a new job, starts a new relationship (ever notice how some people forget their friends when they’re in a relationship? That’s a post for another day though). We have every intention of keeping in touch, getting together, remaining friends. Life moves on though and we look back and think, “Wow! Has it really been that long?” A year, five years, ten years, twenty years.

    Some friends are meant to be though, and your paths with cross again. That was the case with my elementary school friend, Susan Hayman (now Holbrow). I used to walk by her house on Beechgrove Road every Sunday on my way to St. Joseph’s Church. She started coming with me. That always confused me because she wasn’t Catholic – she didn’t HAVE to go to church. She even came to summer camp with me one year – and shortly after that her family moved to Fullerton California. We wrote to each other for awhile, but the letters eventually dwindled. I’m so happy to see her whenever she visits Canada, and one day I will visit California.

    Facebook has helped me to reconnect with some other high school friends, including a special one, Karen Robbins. These friends – Karen in particular – knew me best; she knew the difficulties I faced when I was sixteen. Even after I left my foster home, we stayed in touch, lived together for awhile, and then we lost touch. I searched for her for years, to no avail. I still remember the day she connected with me on Facebook – I literally cried.

    My biological parents are gone. My foster parents are gone. My foster sister is gone. I am not close with my biological siblings. Sometimes I feel all alone in the world. That’s when I start thinking of the people I’ve lost and I ask myself why I allowed that to happen.

    I think we all mean to stay in touch, but life gets busy and distracting. I have to do a better job at reaching out and just say “Hi, how are you” to keep the connection going. I’m going to challenge myself to write a list of people I know that I don’t want to lose, and my resolution for 2022 will be to strengthen the connection.

    There’s a reason we met, and I don’t want to lose any more friends. If you’re reading this and think you might be one of the friends I haven’t stayed in touch with – please don’t hesitate – reach out and keep in touch. Don’t let me lose you.

    Flipside Conversation” by Suzette Seveny is licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0



  • Two Lost Landmarks

    Two Lost Landmarks

    A few articles over the past year about how the Spadina Hotel has been torn down to build million dollar condos, started me reminiscing about living in Toronto in the 70’s, so I thought I’d take a few minutes and share another story from my younger years.  The story starts at the Spadina Hotel on King Street West and it ends at the Horseshoe Tavern on Queen Street West.

    CabanaThis particular memory is about meeting a couple of guys who played music at the Spadina Hotel which was at the corner of King and Spadina in Toronto. One played the piano and the other played the drums, and at 16, they seemed ancient to me. I mentioned that I played guitar, so they asked me to sing for them and we arranged for me to meet at the hotel, in the upstairs lounge. I was pretty excited, so I went to the Salvation Army and I bought a beautiful dark green satin, off the shoulder, formal gown, with light green inserts at the sides. It looked fantastic on me and I wore it into Spadina Hotel, armed with my guitar and a 20140121-Global-SpadinaBWlittle bit of confidence.

    We basically played rather sedate country music, songs like “Tie a Yellow Ribbon”, and I added a couple of folk-type songs, like “Changes” by Phil Ochs, and “Sit Down Young Stranger” by Gordon Lightfoot and “Father and Son” by Cat Stevens. The bartender used to serve me Singapore Slings and Cherry Brandy. I played there for almost two months, every Friday and Saturday night, and I was able to walk home with a few dollars in my pocket, a little less hungry.

     

    Until the day the hotel manager asked me for some identification because someone dared to suggest I might be underage. Ah, the audacity!!! Of course, I had no ID to support me being old enough to be in a licensed establishment (because I wasn’t), and thus ended my brief career as a lounge singer.

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spadina_Hotel

    https://www.blogto.com/city/2014/01/a_brief_history_of_the_spadina_hotel/

    https://www.theglobeandmail.com/report-on-business/industry-news/property-report/memories-of-the-cabana-room/article30852881/

    The age of majority (i.e. legal drinking age) at that time in Ontario was 18. It had recently been lowered from 21, but when you’re on your own trying to support yourself and stay alive, what difference does a few years make, right?

    Up the street at the corner of Queen and Spadina was another bar called the Horseshoe Tavern which used to be a blacksmith’s shop. It was the birthplace of many country music stars in Canada and over time I got to watch performers like Ian and Sylvia Tyson, Willie Nelson and Stompin’ Tom Connors. It was an incredibly dark and smoky place and nobody asked me for identification.Horseshoe

    I would stand outside on the street corner (get your mind out of the gutter) and beg for money. A few cents here and there and I could afford a sandwich at a restaurant on the other side of Spadina, and then come back and have a draft beer (I think it was 25 cents) and I would nurse that glass all night and listen to the music. One evening, a guy approached me outside and wanted me to “perform” for the money (again – get your mind out of the gutter) and I did a quick comedy routine pretending that the lamp post was a person and had a funny conversation (albeit one sided). At least I think it was funny because people walking by gave me money and I started to realize I was onto something.

    I took the routine inside the Horseshoe Tavern a few times as well, naming the third stair down to the washrooms and loudly declaring “Don’t step on Harold” to people who walked downstairs. A lot of people laughed but only a couple gave me any change, so I decided it wasn’t worth my while. The fact that I forced myself out of my scared, introverted self was a testament to how desperate I was for money. Hunger is a great motivator.

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horseshoe_Tavern

    I celebrated my 18th birthday at the Horseshoe Tavern with some people I had become friendly with. Imagine the bartender’s surprise when he found out I was now 18 and he had been serving me for just over a year. He even bought me a drink to celebrate!

    The following year the age of majority was raised to 19.

     

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

  • Flying Gazebos and Other Perils of Life

    Flying Gazebos and Other Perils of Life

    My favourite season of the year is spring, when we begin to thaw out  after the long cold winter and things start blooming. It reminds me of a promise – the promise of a warm and sunny glorious summer! Until the wasps come.

    Having once been stung more than 30 times, I can honestly say I hate them.

    I discovered wasps had taken up residence behind my shutters on my house when I went to remove them to repaint them. So I offered my brother, who always needs money, $200 to go up and bring them down. He jumped at the chance for easy money. After climbing up the ladder to the second story of my house, he removed the shutters, threw them to the ground and quickly descended the ladder in a visible state of agitation.

    “Holy cow” he exclaimed, there’s thousands of wasps up there!
    “Why do you think I was paying you so much money just to remove the shutters?” I told him. “Consider it danger pay”. My next goal was to create an outdoor space on my back deck, so we bought a gazebo. It didn’t take long for the wasps to find it and start building a nest.

    My daughter’s boyfriend decided he would earn some brownie points by offering to remove the nest. Armed with nothing more than a broom handle, he ventured outside and started poking the nest. I could see what was going to happen so I quickly closed the patio doors. As the wasps came out in force, said boyfriend ran for the door screaming “Let me in”. Well, there was no chance of that; if I opened the door the wasps would get in, so I quickly locked it. I’m not a cold hearted person though, so I did eventually open the door and let him in – after the wasps had gone away.

    Wasp-free, my gazebo was now perfect for sitting out on warm summer evenings. I purchased a few comfortable chairs, some side tables, and plants, and surrounded the deck with solar powered patio lights. It was divine!

    Until the first storm of the season, when the winds picked up my gazebo and tossed it about, twisted metal lying amid the devastation of knocked over tables and plants.

    Not to be deterred, we purchased another gazebo – a bigger gazebo, a better gazebo. This one was screwed to the deck and had netting all around it. Paradise!

    Until the second storm of the season, which was one week after we had put up the gazebo. Still fastened to the deck, the gazebo still managed to become twisted and mangled. We complained to the store and they gave us our money back.

    Our next gazebo came from TSC which is more of a farm country type of store. Surely their gazebos were better. After we had put it up and fastened it to the deck, we added some carpeting and a beautiful chandelier style light in the middle. We even purchased more plants and some outdoor drapes to block the western sun in the afternoon and to give us some privacy. We were the envy of our neighbours.

    Until the third storm of the season. The entire gazebo collapsed in on itself, destroying the beautiful chandelier.

    Undeterred, my husband bought some metal bars to reinforce the parts of the gazebo frame that had broken or twisted. Success!

    Until the fourth storm of the season. The reinforced parts of the frame held up very well, but everywhere that wasn’t reinforced was broken and twisted. No problem – we were pros by this time. More metal bars, more reinforcement. We were so confident by this time that we even put a new Edison light bulb in the chandelier and hung it back up. My paradise was restored.

    Then the next storm hit. We were home at this point and as I heard the winds pick up from my office upstairs, I quickly ran downstairs, screaming “Protect the gazebo”. I wanted my husband to go out on the deck and loosen the canvas from the frame, believing that would stop the gazebo from damage. He disagreed and decided to hold onto the frame, to hold it down so that the wind couldn’t take it away.

    I watched him through the patio door as the wind picked up and lifted him off the deck. Then I saw lightning. I asked him if he thought it was wise to be holding a metal rod with lightning happening. He assured me this was a better solution than loosening the canvas.
    After checking the double indemnity clause on his life insurance policy, I decided he could do as he pleased. In the end though, he is fine.

    The gazebo did not fare well – the final storm of the season destroyed it one last time.  I console myself with the knowledge that it was never up long enough for the wasps to rebuild their nasty little nest.

     

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

  • This is Me!

    This is Me!

    Wanted to quickly share somethings, so I guess this is a “quicky” post.

    I did one of those stupid Facebook quizzes today – the kind of thing I tell everyone NOT to do because they’re just mining your friends and personal information. I was bored though. It resulted in a word cloud made up of my most often used words on Facebook. I have to admit, I think they got this right, because when I think of the things that matter most to me, this is it.

    This is ME!

    Don’t click it though, because it won’t take you anywhere. I hate those types of things. Except this one.

  • Timeless Advice 

    Timeless Advice 

    I recently turned 60, and it’s been a surreal experience. I tell myself that I’m not “really” 60, and then I look in the mirror and realize that yes, sadly I really am.

    I thought I would commemorate this depressing occasion by sharing a story from my youth, that helped me to terms with growing older. You see, I had always been terrified to grow old and I actually never thought I would. I made a deal with myself to stop at 30. Life was very painful for me back then, and I was struggling to exist on a daily basis.

    When I was 16, I read a newspaper article about a woman who was turning 100. I couldn’t imagine anyone living that long; why would anyone want to? Being the weird person I was, I looked her up in the phone book, found her address, and mailed her a letter, explaining my fears and asking to meet her. Imagine my surprise when I received a letter back, inviting me to tea. I donned my nicest clothes and went hoping to hear some wise advice about growing old without fear. The fact that she invited a complete stranger to her house, a street urchin no less, gives you an idea of the kind of person she was.

    Louise Tandy Murch was an amazing lady; she lived alone in a huge house that looked dated, as did she. Her face was etched with deep lines that reminded me of the Sahara desert.  She carried in a large silver platter that held a tea service and some scones that she had made herself. I offered to help her carry it, but she insisted she was fine. As we sat drinking tea and eating scones, she shared with me some information about her life. She did yoga every day, despite having pins in both her hips, and she was a pianist. Her husband had been an orchestra conductor and together they had traveled the world. He had died several years before but she said she didn’t have time to give up on life or get depressed (yes, we discussed depression) because she was just too busy. She was currently trading music lessons with a young man in return for free gardening work.

    I told her that I liked to play guitar and sing sometimes, so she played the piano for me and invited me to sing. When I started singing, she punched me in the stomach (in the diaphragm) and told me that’s where it had to come from. By the way, that was NOT a gentle punch – it got my attention. She reached into her piano bench and took out a music book with country songs and gave it to me. She told me she didn’t enjoy playing country music but she thought my voice was perfect to sing country. I’m still not sure if that was a compliment or not. 

    It was a very different type of afternoon, one that I have never forgotten. All these years later, I still have that music book, and I often remember this incredible lady and her timeless advice for living at all ages. Her secret for living so long was because she was simply too busy to die. I’m fairly sure her advice has had a lot to do with how I’ve lived my life – keeping busy (often too busy), staying involved, trusting others. In a moment of remembrance after my birthday, I decided to “google” her name and found out that the National Film Board has a short film about her life that was directed by Deepa Mehta in 1976. It also looks as if something was in the works in 2014 as well

    http://www.hollywood.com/movies/at-99-a-portrait-of-louise-tandy-murch-59211080/credits/.

    I never knew I was in the presence of someone famous, I just knew I was getting some timeless advice about living and aging. Thank you Mrs. Murch, for the lesson and for the example.

    By the way – if someone “googles” your name in the distant future, what do you think they’ll find? 

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

  • The Worst Decisions

    The Worst Decisions

    I hate making decisions; I’m a fence-sitter at heart. When I’m forced into making a decision, I second guess myself for days afterwards. I have doubts and they can be crippling. That’s how I feel though, it’s not how I act. People who meet me in meetings would describe me as decisive, opinionated, confident. Which is true? They both are to some extent. The first one is internal, and the second one is external. You don’t always get to see what’s really inside some people.

    downloadThere are people worse than me though; those who can’t even pretend to push themselves. They can’t make a decision and they’ve given up trying. people-who-have-an-indecisive-personality

    Then there are those who will not make decisions so they won’t have to be accountable. Nobody can ever accuse them of making a bad decision; because they never make decisions. If things go wrong or don’t work out, they can point the finger at whoever made the decision, safe in the knowledge that the fingers will never be pointed at them. Let someone else take that risk. The people who do this, consciously or subconsciously, are much harder to recognize. I’ll point my finger at them though. It’s easy to abdicate your responsibility and let someone else take the chance and the risk. Then you can resent them if they fail, (but subconsciously you’ll resent them if they succeed, because you’ll feel it should have been you).its-not-my-fault

    If there’s one thing I’ve learned though, is that the worse decision you’ll ever make, is the one you never make.

    As the Dalai Lama said, Great results and great growth involve great risks.

    • Right or Left?
    • Chicken or Beef?
    • Mutual Funds or Bonds?
    • Red or White?

    Just make a damn decision, take a chance. It’s always better than doing nothing.

     

    Creative Commons License

    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

  • At What Cost?

    This may be a deep, thoughtful subject. It’s definitely going to be a controversial one. It’s also definitely a conversation worth having. It’s a conversation about choice and the right to make your own decisions. It’s about the end of life.

    I read a blog a few days ago about a husband and wife, scientists from Australia, who had decided when and what their end of life would be. They made no secret that this is what they had planned. I read it, then watched the video, then did a lot of thinking.

    The Big Sleep

    I thought about my pets, and how I loved them too much to let them suffer. I respected when it “was time” and let them go, though it broke my heart. Sometimes it seems we have more compassion for our pets than we do our loved ones.

    And I thought about some animals in the wild, who wander off when it’s time to die, so that they can be alone and not weaken the herd or pack.

    Then I thought about some people I have met in nursing homes, incapable of seeing, hearing, communicating; being kept alive on machines, mind and body long deserted.

    And I thought, “At what cost?” We can make people live much longer than ever before, but at what cost? Are we keeping people alive against their will? Quality of life must factor into the equation at some point.

    Taking into consideration that there is a great cost to society dealing with an aging population in nursing homes, if they do not want to continue living, why are we doing it? For the families? Because we’re afraid to lose them? Isn’t that like letting your beloved pet suffer because you’re not ready to let go? Isn’t that kind of selfish?

    Please don’t misunderstand me – I’m definitely not saying “Kill all the old people”. I’m saying if someone whats to end on their own pre-defined terms, whether because of chronic illness or progressive dementia, do we have the right to force them to continue? At all costs?

    I don’t know the answer. I’m not saying this is right for me and you may say it’s not right for you. I’m saying we need to think about this. While we have developed the means to keep people alive, maybe we also should be respecting people’s wishes to die – within reason.

    You may notice that I’m leaving God and religion out of this discussion. MY God never wants us to suffer. Having been brought up Roman Catholic, the explanation always given when someone dies is that God called them “home” and that it was God’s “will”. Well, if someone is dying (God calling them home) and we force them to stay alive through artificial means, are we not circumventing God’s will?

    We all need to think about this – it’s a huge moral and ethical question and it needs to be discussed more as a human right.

  • 2016 – The Year of Living

    new-year-resolution-c-carouselHappy New Year 2016!

    I’m not a fan of resolutions, as I think they set us up for disappointment and self-loathing. Setting a resolution tends to make us over-critical of ourselves, as if somehow we aren’t good enough just as we are. Sure, we can all get healthier, lose weight, quit smoking, etc., but those are things we should be doing all the time anyway without needed to start self-hating. At the end of the year we can look back on everything we didn’t accomplish and feel even worse about ourselves. Resolutions are not necessary or healthy. For example, I quit smoking a few years ago and I didn’t make a resolution to do it. I just did it.hobbes

    What I’d like to do is set loftier goals. What are loftier goals you ask? Good question. I am going to aspire to be a nicer person, and a happier person. I’m going to set some realistic goals for myself that are based more on personality development, and then on the first of every month, I’ll revisit my goals. I can pat myself on the back for the ones that I am actually doing, I can re-commit to some others by re-thinking how to achieve the goal, or I can completely discard the goal if I don’t think it’s realistic, or if my interests have changed. No long-term commitment – this is like a month-to-month lease.

    I want to be more conscious of what I’m buying and eating, and I’m not talking diet. My purpose is to buy Canadian products whenever and wherever possible and share my Canadian finds with as many people as I can. I think this is a good way to raise awareness of where our products are grown, produced, manufactured, etc. and might have a positive influence on Canadian jobs. If I can’t find a Canadian product (for example, pineapples don’t grow in Canada), I’ll look for products from the USA.

    foot in mouthI also want to be a more positive and less critical person. My purpose is to try to elevate my moods by spreading kindness around. Some people do this by paying it forward at a coffee shop drive through. I don’t use drive throughs though (I actually think they’re the best example of laziness and disregard for our air quality), so I’ll do it by trying to say something nice about most people I meet. I’ll try for three a day. It might be to compliment someone on their appearance, or thank them sincerely for good service, etc. I’ll smile more too – smiling is infectious. Before I make a comment, I will try to ask myself, “Is it helpful?” “Is it supportive?” “Is it necessary?” I’m going to try to be more patient and remember the golden rule – if I can’t say something nice, say nothing at all. Not terribly hopeful on that last part, but I’ll re-evaluate how realistic it is after a month.

    I want to disconnect from a lot of social media as well. The town I live in has several Facebook pages, and so many of the comments on them can be very negative. I have a tendency to try and correct misinformation, but I now realize that ignorance truly is bliss for most people. A friend recently pointed out to me that most successful people aren’t on Facebook very much and I realize that’s true. It’s also true that the people who are on Facebook most of the time, don’t have much else going on in their lives. Please don’t let that be me!

    I’m going to put a limit on my Facebook activities and even leave some of the groups that I’m a part of because of the negativity. All town information will be on a need to know basis and I don’t need to know about other people’s negativity and close-mindedness. It just makes me lose faith in society. Along those same lines, I’m going to learn to walk away or set boundaries with negative people or people who consistently upset me. I don’t know if they do it deliberately or if it’s just how I’m perceiving it, but whatever the reason, I will no longer accept that negativity in my life. It’s bad for my chakra*.

    Since I’ll be disconnecting from Facebook more, I’d like to devote some time each week to writing. I find writing elevates my mood, and allows me to connect with my inner spirit. I’ve already started writing more with this blog and by joining a writing group, so I’m well on my way! I’m also going to spend some time each week reading. I find I’ve been spending more time reading news lately and not recreational reading. I have a list of books I’d like to check out – some e-books and some physical books, but reading a novel for even for 15 minutes a day will be relaxing for me.

    And here’s a weird one – I’d like to watch more television shows/movies. This is something I’ve stopped doing over the past year and like reading and writing, it’s a way for me to relax. I’m not going to expect to watch television every evening or go to the movies every week, but I’d like to go to the movies at least every two months if there’s something worth seeing, and watch recreational television for at least an hour or so a week.

    I’d like to try something new at least once a month. It might be colouring, a drum circle, wine-tasting, bus trips, whatever – just something to get me out of my stale routine and keep life interesting. If I hear that friends are going to be doing something different, I’m going to speak up and ask if I can join them. I’ve met some really nice, positive people over the past few months by doing this, and it’s definitely a positive thing. I’d like to try yoga and meditation for example. Maybe I can find a friend who would be interested in these things as well. I’d also like to go to Toronto on a Friday evening for storytelling. I used to go years ago and really enjoyed it, so I’d like to do it again and maybe introduce some friends to it.

    When I get stuck in a rut, I start to become afraid of change. I need to get out of my comfort zone and stretch my wings a bit. Life’s too short just to go through the motions and soon I’ll be another year older. I’m now at the age where I never know how much time I have left. Time to learn to live.

    So here’s a summary of my list of goals:Growing

    • Buy and promote Canadian products (because this is important to me)
    • Say something nice to 3 people a day
    • Be less critical and impatient
    • Avoid negative people
    • Limit interactions on Facebook
    • Make time to write
    • Make time to read (aim for 15 mins a day)
    • Make time to watch TV (aim for an hour a week)
    • Go to the movies at least once every 2 months
    • Try to do something new or different at least once a month
    • Try yoga and meditation
    • Re-visit the goals on the first of every month

    Welcome to 2016 – I’m looking forward to the journey!

    *This is the first time I’ve used the word “chakra”. It just felt right. I looked it up after I used it and it definitely is the word I wanted to use.

  • Tears

    tearsI cry a lot. I have always cried a lot. I’ve cried for many reasons. When I was a little girl, my teachers made fun of me in school for crying so much. One teacher, at William G. Miller Public School in Scarborough refused to let me go on a school trip to Niagara Falls because I cried so much.

    I didn’t have an easy childhood. There was a stigma to being in the Children’s Aid Society (CAS). Neighbour’s children were not allowed to play with me, a teacher at Norman Cook Public School refused to talk to me. I was tainted with the sins of my biological parents. I had been abused and had nightmares. Life scared me and I had trouble fitting in. The loneliness hurt very badly.

    So I cried.

    My foster-father made me buy my own tissues – as if somehow that would make me reluctant to cry. Finally he tried to understand.

    “Why do you cry so much?” he asked me quizzically.

    “Because it makes me feel better” I explained. “When I feel sad and alone, or if my feelings are hurt, I cry about it and then I feel better.”

    He shook his head in confusion. I knew he couldn’t understand; he couldn’t relate to me. I loved him for trying though.

    My crying continued.

    In my twenties, I was often told at work that I needed to grow a thicker skin. The only way that would happen was if I stopped feeling though, or stopped caring. I kept crying.

    I cried around family too. If my daughter came home from school and told me someone had called her a name or hurt her, I cried. I could almost feel her pain. I took her pain and disappointment on myself; how I wished I could remove her pain in doing so.

    Seeing homeless people or abandoned or mistreated animals breaks my heart. I have only to close my eyes and imagine the suffering in the world to feel the pain; warm tears will follow.

    In my thirties, a woman named Jacqui told me it didn’t look good to cry at work. She suggested the stairwells. They quickly became my “go to” places. If I thought I was going to start crying, I would suddenly remember something I had “left” somewhere else, and would dash to the stairs to go and get it.

    Once, in a meeting during a difference of opinion, someone said to me “Are you going to start crying now?” I realized it takes more than that to make me cry now; first I have to care.

    I’m glad I cry. Besides the release, it reminds me that I am alive, that I have a heart, and that I care. I worry about people who never cry. Have they hardened their hearts? Does nothing touch them? Or do they only cry for themselves when they’re alone and nobody can see them?

    We cannot fully appreciate the happy times in life until we know what sadness is, so thank God I cry. I love the times when I’m filled with happiness and joy, but when someone makes me cry, they’ve touched my soul. I still have a heart and I can still be hurt. I can still feel the pain when those I love are hurt.

    I still cry. Not for myself as often, but for those who are close to me.I cry for the insensitivity of some people. I cry for the future of our world and I cry for  the injustices I see all around me. I cry for you and I cry for me. I cry for all of us.

    I’m glad I can still cry.