Question Authority

I grew up in a small, sheltered town on Long Island, where families went to church, and had large gatherings around BBQ’s, pools, and at beaches. Kids rode bikes wherever they wanted, and I routinely stayed out after dark, without any fear.

We were taught to respect authority. Authority was the teacher, parent, a nun, the policeman, the priest, your boss, the store owner, etc. We said please and thank you, and never smart mouthed an adult.

So many more experiences…some I don’t care to face, even in my own mind. Years have passed and I have stuffed those memories away in a safe place. Physical, sexual, and psychological abuse.

Now this #blacklivesmatter.

I don’t pretend to know all of the exact details in every case of these all-too-common altercations that are plastered all over the news and social media. I can’t fathom the intensity of the situations surrounding some of the incidents, and the “in the moment” decisions that forever change the lives of those involved.

How does this end? I don’t know. I can’t fix this. YOU can’t fix this. Authorities can’t fix this. I naively want to return to that corny post card time, and ride my bike wherever I want, without fear. Don’t you?