My husband is always amused by my attitude to news. In that, I generally do my best to avoid it. When I turn my computer on in the morning, I prefer to know what happened, 'today in history' rather than what's actually happening today.
I've pretty much always been that way.
It's a guilty secret of mine.
In the days when there used to be newspapers, I would be reading a book.
When I was a kid and the TV news was on at 6, that would be the time I remembered my homework.
I'm sometimes so completely uninformed, that I have to nod knowingly in conversations. ( In fact, if we're ever in conversation and I nod knowingly at you, be re-assured I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.)
Nowadays though, it's almost impossible to avoid the news entirely, because it's everywhere and 24 hours. So instead, I try my best to be selective.
If there's news of a new invention, I like that. If there's news of a cure for some disease, ooh I like to be informed.
I'm on it for local news: burglaries in the area? lock those doors. Cafe opening down the street? - ooh must remember to try it.
But the lead story, the one everyone's talking about, my position on it is "head-in-the-sand."
I know.
And I apologize.
Sorta.
But in my defense, when May 2013 is history, I'll look back on those girls in Cleveland and how amazing they are. How they managed to endure unimaginable punishment, for an unbelievable amount of time and even raise a beautiful little kid. How it shows the strength of humankind. The force of human spirit.
But right now, it's news. So, instead of considering the magnificence and bravery and extraordinary resilience to be found in three young women, I seethe every time I turn the tv on, or when Google news appears on my computer.
I see the squat little face of that pathetic excuse for a nervous system, bowing his head. Ashamed. He really didn't mean it you know. He had a difficult childhood. Life was a struggle. He was poor. Ya-de-ya-de-ya.
Poor thing. he didn't manage to make bail so he'll be incarcerated till his trial. Don't know where to put him? Well, there's a basement in a place in Cleveland that's just become available.
Right now, where I am, the sun is out and my current concerns, re motherhood, are that I have to get cookies ready for the bake sale, and that my kids are due a dental check up. Both remind me of three human beings who didn't get to see the sun, and a six year old who has already seen the unimaginable.
And today, though I should be writing up little pieces about history, when I sit down to write, the same story goes through my mind.
There's a little yellow school bus with a squat, little driver and the only passengers on it are the two Boston bombers and they're driving to the desert. On the way they stop off to pick up Geoffrey Portway, whose car broke down when he was out shopping for stuff for his torture chamber.
Anyway, as they get further and further into the desert, the road gets rougher and the little yellow bus bumps up and down, so detonating the pressure cooker bombs, those two douchebags were so smug at having made.
And suddenly there's this massive explosion and the four of them and the little school bus suddenly are wiped off the face of the earth.
And all that's left behind is an indistinguishable pile of dust, under a beautiful, clear, blue sky.
Then I realize that's a terrible story.
What an awful waste of a school bus.
I plan to work really hard at avoiding the news over the next couple of weeks, because I teach my kids that hatred is wrong.
And now I'm heading off to make cookies and book dental appointments. And for Amanda Berry, Gina Dejesus and Michelle Knight, I wish for them, the normality of getting to do the same.
