Every morning there is a news
announcement of a mass shooting. This has become the norm for awakening, with
no snooze button. Doesn’t seem if it is a declared war of country against
country even though the warriors killing each other have no qualm against each
other or just some fool with an automatic weapon that either has some
self-involved demented mission angary against the other and ready for
self-devolved revenge for some unknown fable or momentarily upset with one hand
on the trigger?
Whatever the excuse, the
authorities who are assigned to clean up the mess will investigate theories and
possibilities and reports the same lack of reason with no solution.
All they can report from
accumulated data is the body count. This can’t be right so the numbers are
varied with an ‘at least’ because there may be some more no one noticed.
For whatever journalist
reasons, the reports include those who were shot and some who died at the scene
were children. Does that make death and mayhem more empathic than elderly or
disabled or just some middle age folk who were in the wrong place at the wrong
time?
I admit I have limited
knowledge of this ‘children’ thing. I enjoyed the process to producing the
little buggers, but for various reasons never sired another little person
called ‘children’. At least there are no creatures walking this blue bubble
with my likeness that I know of.
Either way, it is the ‘mother’
who must take responsibility after the squirt. She’s got to cook the bun in the
oven and carry it around until it is ready to make a break for it.
Whether welcomed by the couple
who coupled for this wonderful moment of birth or assigned a name or number and
given a blue or pink blanket due to the outdoor plumbing.
So, this little person arrives,
but unlike a pet, must be attained to every minute. It must be fed, it must be
cleaned up because it has no control over bodily functions, it must have a
place to sleep. It screams when uncomfortable without being able to communicate
why. The woman who bares the child (usually) is assigned the duty of
maintaining it's life or others may have to step in to attempt to keep another
human being alive.
The children; they don’t know. Someone
has to teach them how to walk and how to talk. They must learn to feed
themselves. The must learn to relieve themselves in a sanitary manner. This is
the requirement of society.
From here, children are paraded
with pride. Families (especially mothers) can gather and talked out their
children’s clothing, carting mechanics, toys and stuffed animals and there are
lots of pictures on phones.
Children play. They do silly
things and everyone finds it endearing. They don’t know. They don’t have to go
to work. They don’t have to choose their clothing. They don’t have to worry
about taxes. They are free to do whatever they want until taught restrictions.
Most countries have some sort
of system to educate children. This process only works when the child is a
certain age and is expected to be taught by a family member to walk, speak and
behave in a manner able to associate with other children. At this point,
children learn society accepted expectations and the caste system of
achievement.
Children, little humans that
have been produced by ourselves, don’t know about religion or God or prejudice
or hate or kindness or empathy. Some feelings are felt by changes in hormones
and visual experiences, but they are taught and learn from others.
So, when the body count is
reported, why are these cute little creatures we cherish so much, be on the
list? Doesn’t anyone realize that this is the next generation? Sure, the old
folk can be bombed because they don’t have much more time left anyway, but
children have all the possibilities of creating the next cultural influencer or
tune or must have or become the next political name spouting popular propaganda
while begging for your money and fame until forgotten or make the headlines as the
next mass murderer.
“Women and children first” were
always the cry for they were the most venerable (and the next generation) why
us guys were expendable. Don’t get into wealth or color or faith to find your
place on the food chain.
Tomorrow will be another ‘breaking
news’ report of some atrocity and to bring out the tissues, many are children.
Another life lesson.
With all the daily news of gatherings being mowed down by
one who doesn’t appear any different than anyone else until… Makes being
observant a survival skill. 
