Musing

Andrew Breitbart dies unexpectedly.  I was going to post something about it, but I was out with Mom, having a great time.  Still, the whole time I was musing in the back of my head on the upcoming anniversary of Dad's death.  When we got back to FOB Borepatch, I was glad to have Mom here, but was missing the family 900 miles away in Atlanta.

But duty called, and I sat down to organize my thoughts.  Then I ran across this post by ASM826 about one of his old friends:

The last time we talked was Tuesday evening. Same sarcastic jokes, same comfortable friendship.

I should have told him I loved him. Because I won’t get another chance.

Wednesday morning, he hugged his wife, left the house, walked to a motel, checked in, and sometime that morning, he killed himself.

I'm sorry, my brain just stripped a gear.  I could write something about the meaningful struggle, about inspiring personalities, about the man in the Arena.  It's all there, in that place inside my head.

I don't want to look there.  I look across the room here at Mom reading her book, and I don't want to play that whole "us vs. them" game.  Sorry.  I just want to turn up the music.

So go to the ballgames
And go to the ballet
And go see your folks more than just on the holidays
Kiss all your children
Dance with your wife
Tell your husband you love him every night
Don't run from the truth
'Cause you can't get away
Just face it and you'll be okay

Peace.  But please don't anyone leave any comments about the need to keep fighting Andrew's battle.  There will be time enough for that later.  Right now, go kiss your kids and dance with your wife.