{Amsterdam}
Two days ago, I learned yet another classmate of mine had passed away. She committed suicide after years of battling depression. She left behind a daughter; many other loved ones as well. There are nearly a dozen less living men and women than I graduated high school with. And I graduated with 95.The following day, yesterday, I received a news alert I wasn't immediately startled by. President Obama condemned how "routine" these mass shootings have become. Indeed, 2015 has been the worst year for such horrors in the United States. For some global perspective: America has six times as many firearm homicides as Canada, and 15 times as many as Germany. And despite repetitive arguments from some, armed civilians do not stop them from happening. I encourage you to watch the President's televised statement below.
This past weekend, I finished Secret Son, a hauntingly beautiful book I'd been reading (thanks to a Little Free Library) by Laila Lalami. There was an engaging fictional storyline, but I was most interested in how it reflected "the desperation that grips ordinary lives in a world divided by class, politics, and religion"--very much characteristic of the modern condition in Morocco, at home, and beyond.
Our reality weighs heavily on my heart. I worry we've become too disconnected, too numb, too untrusting. In that "debate" I mentioned having at a cozy bar in Amsterdam, Lorelei and I tried to explain the individualistic ideology at the core of American identity; how it's responsible, as we believe, for our economic success, revolutionary inventions, global standing, and increasingly disappointing social issues. My childhood friend recently had a baby, and my excitement to meet the little man is stained by guilt at the world he has so innocently entered. "Our thoughts and prayers are not enough", President Obama declared; I'm fearful mere kindness isn't either.
