Thieves

A couple of times in college, I was called "Thief of Hearts" or the less desirable nickname, "Maneater." This cracks me up because I was neither.

Friday, during what should have been a pleasant and low-key celebration of Independence Day, my friend had her window smashed and her purse stolen. Nowhere is safe these days.

Thieves are cowards. I don't own a gun but if I did, I might plant myself in the parking lot and shoot bullets at their feet. "Dance Thief! Dance!"

Then I might put some fireworks in various orifices and light them.

Independence Day

Today is the 4th of July. Along with the BBQs and parties, I try to respect the history of this holiday. I cry easily and patriotic songs can make me weep. It's therapeutic and it reminds me of the many things I should be grateful for. In case I'm not feeling mushy enough, I like to remind myself:

There are millions of people in this country, let alone the world, who do not have enough to eat.
There are women who give birth and watch their babies die due to lack of food or medicine.
People live under bridges and overpasses. I have a roof over my head.
Diseases can rum rampant and many millions of people have no access to health care. I have my doctor on speed dial.

There's an old saying: "You come into this world alone and you leave it alone." I don't find it true. If you're lucky, as I am, you get some pretty great parents who you meet right out of the birth canal. I've watched my mother hold lots of parents' hands when it was their time to go. They may have made the journey alone but someone was right there at the beginning and the end.

I used to think of myself as independent. I'm not. Oh, I could make it on my own but I like the dependence on my friends and family. I'm even dependent on the maniac dog -- I'm guaranteed a laugh.

I'm trying to find the balance.