There are two days in the year that we can not do anything, yesterday and tomorrow . Mahatma Gandhi
After the Bomb Blast Where is the cameraman’s face, as he zooms in on the hungry bleeding child? Is the small boy frightened of a creature carrying a camera? Does that person bring bread and bandages?
Then the camera moves to the next atrocity and delivers sensationalist stories for the 6 o’clock news?
On the other side of the screen viewers chew carryout pizza and wait for the next commercial to get more beer from the refrigerator.
Where is the cameraman’s face? A minute-long film can’t tell the full story. Somehow, may the captured moment ignite help and not more hunger and pain.
When my two sons were teenagers my husband’s brother owned a timeshare condo in Colorado. Occasionally, when my brother-in-law couldn’t get away from his medical practice, he let us use his space for his allotted time.
We pretended to be rich on our marked-down budget. The mountains didn’t care, and we had a blast celebrating their beauty. Of course, the souvenir shops offered limited possibilities.
Our boys checked out the cowboy hats. No way could they afford to purchase two. They pooled their cash and bought one.
The wearer of the hat called himself Tex. The young man who waited for his turn became Ass. Tex-as.
“Okay, Tex, I’m ready for a snack. Let’s check out the refrigerator,” my younger son announced.
terrypetersen 