I am participating in SoCS hosted by Linda G. Hill (click on the link for the ping back to the original blog post and to see the rules). Today’s prompt is “starts with over.”

The word “overwhelmed” is what sprung to mind first. This week has been a difficult one. My brother’s dog Krieger passed away. He was almost 11 years old and sadly developed lymphoma. He made it 3 months before the disease progressed to his liver, and then he quickly took a turn for the worse. Unable to keep food down, and clearly in pain, my parents made the tough decision to put him to sleep. They didn’t want him to suffer.

My brother died nearly 9 years ago, leaving Krieger in my parents care. For 9 years, Krieger served as a living reminder of my brother — and now, he too, is gone. My brother, stolen from this world by a selfish piece of garbage who decided to get behind the wheel while high on drugs. My brother, an air force reservist, and a police officer, who served his country and community was taken away, while the career criminal served only 6 years in jail for his death.

The justice system failed us. It failed us when they gave early release to the garbage that killed my brother. Over crowding, they said. Within 4 days of that release, my brother was dead. It failed us again for giving 8+8 years concurrent instead of 8+8 consecutive. Again, it was up to the Judge’s discretion.

Sometimes, it makes me ashamed to be a lawyer — to be a part of a system where “justice” is more illusion than fact.

I don’t understand. I will never understand. My brother was literally the type of person who would give you the shirt off his back, even if he didn’t have a spare.

During hurricane Sandy, our neighbor’s ranch house was completely flooded. They lost nearly everything, and everything had to be stripped and rebuilt. It was basically a gut renovation. After working triple shifts (because of Sandy) my brother would spend his free time helping them rebuild. For free. He even bought them lumber at the store.

Another time he noticed that a Jewish man was walking on a dark, busy and dangerous street at night (it was the Sabbath and riding in a vehicle was forbidden). After seeing him several times, my brother bought him a reflexive vest so that it would be safer for him to walk along the busy road. When he saw him again, my brother got out of the car, and gave it to the man.

That was the type of guy my brother was. And now he is gone. And the career criminal lives on, out of jail and free to commit more crimes. He felt no remorse for killing my brother. He never offered more than a mumbled fake apology. Killing my brother was just another crime in a slew of crimes. He spent more of his life in jail than out. This person will never be redeemed. He will never be anything more than a drain on society.

But yet my brother is gone.

Somehow, over the years the pain has lessened, but it never goes away. Sometimes its worse, like when I’m watching a movie I know he would like. Or when I think that my daughter will never know him except for what I tell her.

Or sometimes, something happens, like the death of a beloved, spoiled pet, that brings up everything again.

I can only hope that the two of them are somewhere together again, going for runs at the beach, playing ball at the park, and wrestling on the floor.

I am participating in SoCS hosted by Linda G. Hill (click on the link for the ping back to the original blog post and to see the rules). Today’s prompt is “a song from your childhood.” You can find the rules at the bottom of this post.

When I was a kid, my parents always insisted that we listen to “kid’s music,” which most of the time meant that we were stuck listening to Raffi, on repeat. Even as I write this post, the familiar words of “Baby Beluga” are rolling around in my brain. That is saying something, in my opinion, if I song I probably haven’t heard in 25+ years, is still rattling around the ole’ noggin. Whether that “something” is positive or negative, I will leave that up to you to decide.

If you’ve never heard one of Raffi’s songs, you can listen to “Baby Beluga” on Youtube by clicking on this link.

Imagine listening to this song, and other songs like it, for 2.5 hours while crammed in the back seat with your two younger siblings and the family dog. Since I was the oldest by four years, I was listening to such music far into my teens. Even now, at 40, I shudder to think about it. My daughter, almost two now, has never, and will never, be subjected to Raffi. I’ve had my fill of his music for a lifetime.

The above being said, I’m not trying to be unkind, as for what it is, his music is great. And I recognize that he was very popular when I was a child.

I think that the saying “too much a good thing” fully applies to Raffi.

I remember that he came to the Westport, CT Playhouse, and as a child, I attended this concert. Although to be honest, the only thing I remember about that concert was that another attendee was the actor who played the father on Wonder Years.

In googling him, I found out that he is 74 years old, living in Canada, AND IS STILL GIVING CONCERTS and producing music (his latest album, a collaboration with Lindsay Munroe, was released in 2022).

Congratulations to him on what seems to be a long, successful career.

I am participating in SoCS hosted by Linda G. Hill (click on the link for the ping back to the original blog post and to see the rules). Today’s prompt is a word that “starts with or contains ‘cel.'” You can find the rules at the bottom of this post.

The word I have chosen to write about is “cell phone” — okay it’s two words.

It was the first word that came to mind when I read the prompt, maybe because I was just texting with a friend I haven’t spoken to in a while.

I remember my first cell phone at the age of 16 — a startak — the kind that flipped open, that had a punch in keyboard, basically just for dialing, and that had a battery pack almost as big as the phone attached to the outside.

Remember when you could exchange just the battery instead of the phone?

Remember when we had to memorize phone numbers? Honestly, I can’t even think of one phone number that I know by heart other than my own.

My daughter is 15 months old, and she is already interested in my cell phone. She is already pressing buttons. She knows it is the place where her kids songs come from. She knows its the place where we can video chat Nanna, who lives approximately 5,000 miles away, across the ocean. Isn’t that crazy? My mom can see my baby…in real time…on video…for FREE over a wi-fi connection. My mom only gets to see her in person once or twice a year, but we can talk every few days via videochat. My child will know what her grandmother looks like, sounds like, even though we live on a different continent.

All this technology has arisen in the past 20 or so years. Where will we be in 20 years? In 40 years?

I remember being young and having an Atari and Nintendo. Those seem so outdated now. Will my child go to school in the Metaverse? Are we on our way to becoming like Ready Player One? In some ways, I hope not.

When I was 4, I learned how to use the VCR (remember those, ha!). I taught my grandfather how to use it. What will my daughter be capable of at 4? I have no doubt she will teach me a lot of things, German for one. Although I’ve lived in Austria now since 2017, my German is “intermediate” at best. She will be fluent — bilingual. I wish I had that advantage as a child.

I remember stumbling onto my Dad playing Civilization on the computer when I was a kid. I started playing it and have never stopped. Will something similar happen with my daughter? The computer can open up so many things. I learned to type on my own, for example, simply by using the computer. What will she uncover with technology?

I got off on a tangent a little bit there, but it is all to say that technology is amazing. It is also sometimes a burden. This inability to unplug. I feel naked without my phone. Inevitably whenever I forget my phone, or if it has run out of batteries, I always think of something I need to google. Every time! Information is always at our fingertips. All. The. Time. What happens when it isn’t? Would I be able to find my way without Google Maps? Doubtful.

I’m both excited and nervous about human advancement. I wonder what is to come.

I am participating in SoCS hosted by Linda G. Hill (click on the link for the ping back to the original blog post and to see the rules). Today’s prompt is “element.” You can find the rules at the bottom of this post. This is my first time doing this, so please forgive me if it is not good. I hope to get better as time goes on.

It is Saturday and it is raining. All the potential for the day, washing down the storm drains. We could have gone to the zoo, but my toddler will not abide the downpour. Well, in truth, she would probably play in the puddles. It is I who cannot abide the downpour. I’m not a fan of getting wet, outside of the pool or the shower. My boyfriend could run for hours in the rain — and enjoy it — but not me. I like to be dry when I run. I like to be dry when I step outside the house to go on errands, etc. The rain just puts a damper on everything.

I have never figured out why that is the case. Water is an essential element of life — there can be no life without water. Humans are made mostly of water. Yet there is something about the pitter patter of the rain on my head, soaking my hair despite the rain jacket, soaking my pants despite the umbrella — infiltrating my shoes and getting into my socks that just makes me shudder. No thank you, I’d rather stay at home.