Harder and harder

As things fall apart around us, the Dodgers offer an empty way to hide from the onslaught of carnage that seems to come at us daily.  From my space in Woodland Hills I can do little to combat nature’s power, a wannabe monarch, hate from every side as divisions grow deeper. Death seems to be reigning down more than ever on the innocents.  These aren’t soldiers dying in a stupid war, these are just people.

So I write, and I write some more.  But it gets harder. I wish I was young enough to be a National Guardsman, a trained second responder, something other than a blogger writing about something as trivial as how many home runs Cody Bellinger hit at age 21.


I give blood, I gave it after Harvey and I’ll see if I can give it again after Vegas.  I give some money, but not enough.

I wish I could pray and feel as though it would mean something, but I don’t so I don’t.

Tom Petty also left us today. I loved Tom Petty’s music. Simple and raw. From the first chord I ever heard from “You don’t have to be a refugee” I have listened to Tom Petty, possibly more than any other artist.  He didn’t die young and he already left us with his legacy.  I feel bad he won’t be able to spend time with the granddaughter he mentioned missing by being on the road this one last time.  I’d seen him numerous times and thought very much about seeing him this last time at the Hollywood Bowl but I had to leave town to check on my Dad.

We have had a horrible month in the United States. Harvey, Irma, Maria, Vegas, and always the Trump tweets with the daily reminder of how unhinged our commander in chief, is, and how close to catastrophe we are.

It would behoove the Dodgers to have an amazing October run to help us get through this rough patch, while we remember that for many of us it is simply a mental rough patch. For others,  this rough patch is actually a large hole that took a lifetime of work and dreams.


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