Volunteer

Earlier today I waited for my husband while he had rotator cuff surgery. The waiting room was in the lower level of a major hospital and, as waiting rooms go, it was pleasant. There was free coffee, and it was better than most free coffee one finds in a waiting room.  The chairs were comfortable and strategically placed to offer a moderate amount of privacy while accommodating several members of a patient’s family and friends. The Wifi was dependable, free and adequate for live streaming. It had two, functional televisions - one showed a game show (I had no idea that game shows were still on TV) and the other offered CNN. Both were attentively operated by a passionate, waiting room volunteer. Ah, the waiting room volunteer.

My husband was one of the first cases. We arrived at the hospital by 5:30 a.m. and he was in surgery a little over an hour later. I hadn't had breakfast so I ventured through the myriad of halls and down a few escalators to the cafeteria. When I returned, I asked someone if they knew where I should wait and I easily found the waiting room. I gave a glancing smile to the volunteer at the front desk and found a spot to settle in. Shortly after I fired up the computer and accessed the Wifi, I heard a voice calling, “Colleen?” I answered, “I’m Colleen.”  The volunteer summoned me to the front desk for an orientation.

I approached the desk, smiled and waited. Immediately I was reprimanded that I should have checked in with him, as he had important information to relay to me. I listened attentively. He went over how the texting worked, who would come find me when the surgery was completed, where John would go after surgery etc. Most of the information had already been disseminated to me when we checked in at admitting, but I listened anyway; I had nothing else to do and I appreciated his dedication as a volunteer. After a few minutes of politely listening, I was becoming concerned about my unattended laptop and purse, as a few more people came in to begin their waiting process. Unbelievably, he stopped them and told them to wait, that he had important information to impart to them and that he would now begin all over again so he wouldn't have to say it twice. Say, what? 

All I  wanted to do was go to my spot, connect to Netflix and make time pass; he had already taken up five minutes of my time and this was getting tedious. It was also definitely awkward, not to mention redundant. The new people entering the room, were not as attentive as me and slowly, they just ignored him, found their spots and the lecture ended. Volunteer did not look happy, but he stopped talking and moved on to other duties. 

Soon, I needed to use a restroom, which was “offsite,” meaning not within the confines of the waiting room. As I made my way past the desk, he raised his eyebrows, much like a teacher does when a student deliberately walks towards the exit door. I explained the purpose of my journey and he gave me a tight smile, as if to say, “If you must.” 

He seemed relieved when I returned.  A young woman approached him and asked if he knew where the cafeteria was. He answered robustly, with a smile, “Yes, I do!” She waited a bit and when he said nothing more, she looked perplexed and returned to her seat. Perhaps she realized that he was an eccentric fellow and that it might be better to leave him alone. He got up, emptied a waste basket then returned to her and said, “Do you want me to tell you where the cafeteria is?” She answered, “Yes?”  as if she thought this might be a trick question. He then explained that technically, she never asked him to tell her where it was, just that she asked if he knew where it was. And again, he said robustly, “And I do know where it is!” After which he smiled as if he had just told the most hysterical joke. She smiled weakly and waited. He gave her instructions and I can only imagine how happy she was to leave. I almost offered to show her the way myself, just to find an excuse to leave.

At some point, a physician came and began a discussion with Volunteer which I tuned out. It is funny how when you suddenly hear something odd (and you didn’t even know you were listening), your attention becomes intensely focused. I heard Volunteer raise his voice and say to the doctor, “I will tell you only if you allow me to talk!”  I thought surely he was joking. I took a peek around the corner and the doctor seemed irritated but unwilling to begin a battle with Volunteer. I’m not sure what they had been talking about, but the doctor left in haste. 

Things quieted down and I settled into a rhythm of watching Netflix, checking Facebook, listening to the drone of CNN, and I had an interesting conversation with someone regarding wolves. In the next cubicle over, I heard a wolf cry (I later learned it was from a computer) and asked a woman in my cubicle, “Is that a wolf?”  The man on the computer shouted over the wall, “Yes!” and that seemed to be his cue to come and chat. Turns out, he is really passionate about wolves and wanted to talk to me about them. He was nice, and since I like wolves as well (as much as the next person), we chatted about the differences between coyotes and wolves. It turns out that wolves eat the flesh of their prey and coyotes rip it apart. That conversation was thankfully short, as I continued to wait.

 After a few hours, I was called by Volunteer to meet with John’s doctor in a special waiting room. I admit, it did give me a start and I wondered if this is how they dole out bad news….. The doctor came in and just talked about the surgery and some of the difficulties they encountered and how he worked around them. It turns out that the special waiting room has a whiteboard which he needed to explain what he did to John’s shoulder. 

I returned to the waiting room and was soon asked by Volunteer to follow him. He led me back to the final room of a long hall, which obviously was John’s (because his name was on the whiteboard) but Volunteer stopped me before we walked in. He did a peek around the corner and asked me to gaze in and verify that this was my husband. Um, his name was on the wall … but OK, I went with it. John gave me a weak smile and I began to go in, and was again stopped by Volunteer. Volunteer asked, “Is this your husband?”  I answered (my patience was waning), “Ha ha, yes, this is him,” and I was allowed to pass. He made some reference to plastic surgery but I was really over humoring him, as I entered the room with no more thought to Volunteer.

Fortunately, that was the last I saw of Volunteer. In John’s recovery room we were surrounded by competent, knowledgeable and compassionate nursing staff. They had a refreshingly efficient way of communicating which was both welcome and appreciated.  We watched a video, and discussed signs of infection. I learned what the half life was of narcotics (my question), and how to remove the sling and ice pack (which we totally screwed up when we got home). We went through the various medications to take, when to take them, and what side effects he could expect from the surgery and the new medications. Time flew by and soon he was being wheeled to the car, and home to begin another period of waiting called recovery….

So What?

What is all the fuss about Caitlyn Jenner (or Bruce if you just can’t come to grips with calling him Caitlyn)?  I have been following his story, along with millions of others as his transformation has evolved. At first, I thought it was just the paparazzi creating a story where one didn’t exist, but then when he had the Adam’s apple surgery, I began to think the story had legs (because no one would do that on a whim). So what?

I have seen postings on the story in all kinds of media outlets, Twitter, Facebook, newspapers, TV,  etc. I see and hear the comments and am flabbergasted at the vicious, hateful, judgmental posts from complete strangers that know nothing about Bruce/Caitlyn. Honestly, I am shocked.

Who cares? Why are so many people worrying about something that has absolutely no effect on their lives?  Every day, all across this beautiful planet, in cities, towns, villages etc., people are making decisions that are vastly dissimilar from ones I would make for myself, and I am just fine with that. As long as these decisions don’t result in harm to me, or anyone else, I say go for it. I will still sleep soundly at night and live my life just fine.

How is this decision any different from any other personal decision a person makes about being true to themselves? Body piercings, tattoos, clothing, hair color, fashion, makeup, all are ways to differentiate ourselves and I am OK with it all. Personally, I would never get a tattoo because it is so permanent, but I don’t hate it on others (well, some I do). I am occasionally shocked with some tattoos and how much of the body they cover, but it isn’t my body and I didn’t have to endure the pain so why should I care? The same is true of multiple body piercings, not my bag and I can’t figure out why people would want them, but hey, as long as you keep sharp objects away from me, we are cool. But I digress…..

I have read some people call him/her a “sin against nature,”  and also a comment that, “God doesn’t make a mistake.” My first reaction was to laugh, and I did when I read it. My mirth didn’t last long because almost immediately, I was angry.

With regards to the “sin against nature,”  how dare anyone accuse another of sinning when the action caused no harm? Sinning is kind of a personal thing people, because it involves a great deal of religious connotations many people do not subscribe to. As far as using Bible passages as proof, forget about it - I don’t use the Bible to set my moral compass. Some people do and good for them, I mean it, good for them. The operative words being “good for them,” as in, not for me. Faith is a wonderful thing, but let each person practice what he or she believes and not project his or her faith onto someone else.

As far as “God never makes a mistake,” all I can say is what do you say about babies born with cancer? Or children born with congenital defects that are so severe they do not get to see a birthday? I’m not calling these mistakes, but rather, I don’t blame God for everything that I see as hurtful, wrong or different from my way of thinking.  I hardly think of a person who cannot identify with the sex they are born with as a mistake. Because someone identifies with another sexual identity or orientation is not a mistake, just a fact of life. If it is or isn’t a choice, so what? If that is what a person needs to be to feel whole, then so be it, why on earth would I care?

Before I wrote this, I Googled “transgender suicides,” (because, let’s face it, Google has become our “go to” source for anything we want to know, or to prove. I think my daughter has it speed dialed into her phone, she uses so often to prove me wrong…..).  I wanted to see the statistics on transgender suicides because I watched the Diane Sawyer interview with Bruce, and he spoke of the pain so many transgenders endure.

The statistics are staggering. From just the sources I read, about 40- 50 percent of all transgenders have attempted suicide at some point. I’m not going to document my sources, look it up yourselves, it is a sobering statistic. Even if the number is inflated, it is still jaw dropping, to me. I suspect that there are others who aren’t bothered by transgender suicide attempts, but I am. All suicides bother me and for reasons I think which are obvious to any human with compassion.

Why would anyone ever choose this type of lifestyle change, endure the hatred and judgments of strangers, unless living in a body with a sex you don’t identify with is a living hell?  And what about those that just like to crossdress, you know, as a choice?  So what, I have absolutely no clue why anyone cares what someone else does. Why is it that women can dress as men, act like men and it is cool, edgy, acceptable - we shrug our collective shoulders and carry on.  So if a man wants to dress and act as a woman we quote the Bible, judge, froth at the mouth (figuratively speaking, of course) and basically act as if society will unravel right before our very eyes.

I have read comments about Caitlyn Jenner that suggest that transgenders are mentally ill. Really? So doing something that makes you feel whole, happier, and able to live life feeling healthy is a mental illness? I disagree. Caitlynn sounds a lot healthier and happier now than she did as Bruce. The gold medals didn’t do it for her, being the top athlete in the world didn’t do it, the fame didn’t do it, and being on a trendy TV show didn’t do it. Sounds like living all of this felt like a lie and was hell for him living that life. Coming out as a woman, living a life she always identified with, did it, (or is doing it, I guess). If she is happier now, then everyone can relax and move along.

So what?

My Happy Place

I'll admit, I like Facebook. I haven’t reached the level of contempt and disdain that others apparently have about it. I often hear people complain, and others swear that they are done and are going to delete their account. However, I still enjoy the communication it affords me. I like having the ability to sustain connections with people I otherwise would never maintain contact with.

I like posting pictures, and animal stories that make me cry, checking in when I am on the run, sharing amusing things which make me laugh, and I like the freedom to say what I have on my mind. I enjoy the pictures people share, especially the ones of children and animals. I am certain that not every one of my friends always cares about what I am posting, but so what? If they don’t like it, they can just scroll on by, no harm done.

I don’t like to use Facebook to express my political opinions. Oh sure, I might click on a like button once in a while or make a comment about someone else’s posting, but rarely, if ever, do I post about a current, political issue.  If I feel the need to comment on someone else’s posting, it isn’t to propagate my personal beliefs, but rather to point out something in the post I feel is wrong or misleading. I am polite, factual, and as brief as I can be, at least I try, to be polite that is.  

I have opinions, yes. To be sure, I have strong feelings on certain issues, and I feel I am right. But the purpose of posting my heartfelt opinion is moot – I would never be able to change anyone’s mind because other people with a disparate opinion think they are right also. Frankly, I am not even sure I would want to change their mind.  I don’t consider myself a member of any particular party. I do not agree with the totality of any one party’s platform. I easily lean both right and left and sometimes, I sit on my virtual fence.  I know how I feel about some issues in general, but I am open to evaluating dissimilar ideas.  I am far from perfect and that is exactly why I avoid stepping into the political arena on Facebook.  

I have friends who are just the opposite. From the content of their Facebook page, it appears as if the sole basis for why they post is to express political opinions. Fair enough.  Just as I like to keep things neutral, they like to use it as a virtual Speakers’ Corner. And I think that is just as valid a reason for using Facebook as mine. To each his own. Fortunately, Facebook allows us to choose what we don’t want to see just as easily as what we like to see. If I don’t like someone’s postings, I just eliminate it from my feed.

That isn’t to say that I eliminate the people I disagree with, far from it. I actually enjoy the postings that are wildly different from my opinions. Some make me laugh, some make me think, and some make me search for more information. I appreciate these postings and think of them like collecting coins or pebbles - some are more fine than others but collectively, they make a nice assortment of things to ruminate on.

What I don’t like are the postings that make a broad sweep of any one group and then proceed to deride that group, often under the guise of a “joke.” These are comments, which originate from a pack mentality, and are comparable to something frequently heard on a grade school playground. These comments are oftentimes directed at religious groups, political parties, a particular sex, a state, or even a country.  If you belong to a stated group, then you are laughed at, insulted, put down, intimidated or otherwise offended.  My problem with such comments is that it is insulting to assume every member of a group thinks alike, as if there can be no differentiation of thought.

Not all Republicans are rich, greedy and unethical just as not all Democrats disregard the value of hard work, independent thinking, or entrepreneurship. Not all Catholics believe that birth control is evil or that gay marriage will destroy civilization. Not all Muslims are terrorists, nor are all women who wear a burqa unable to think for themselves or feel demeaned. And finally, not all illegal aliens are here to get everything handed to them. I hate comments that assume every member of a group holds the same opinions, behavior and motivation, and I dislike very much any comments that are intentionally insulting.

If I ever wanted to convince someone that my way is the right way, I wouldn’t do it by hurling insults. The only thing that accomplishes is to create a deeper divide and strengthen animosity. It is dismissive of larger issues and creates divergent paths, not allowing for dialogue.

I work in a school, a school that works tirelessly to prevent bullying and to create a safe environment for children to learn and exchange ideas. As a community, city, state, and country, we strive to wipe out bullying and discrimination. Though not always successful, we continue our efforts. I have seen insulting postings from people who if asked, would condemn bullying and say that they have worked to extinguish it. Then they fire up the computer and just do it in a different forum, but it is still bullying. I suspect, they don’t see it as bullying because they get so many “likes” on their postings and so many like minded comments. So if all of your friends think it is OK…..sound familiar?

Go ahead, post an opinion on Facebook, be angry, and cry out about things you find outrageous.  It’s OK to be mad about a news story, a political event or a politician even, and it’s OK to use Facebook to comment and tell your friends. But people, please leave the insults out. I want to hear how you feel but if you make insulting jokes, comments or post rude pictures, I won’t be your friend anymore…….

Facebook is my happy place and I intend to keep it that way.

News Alert: Christmas is Over, St. Patrick's Day Approaches!

A friend recently commented on why it was so long between my last posting and my current one. I answered, “I guess I wasn’t inspired.”  I realize how idiotic that response was. Over 365 days, and nothing inspired me. Obviously, I have not been paying attention, but recently I have noticed something …Why on Earth are Christmas decorations still up?

I will explain how it works at our house (as I am charge of all things Christmas). The lights go up whenever there is a warm weather opportunity within a few weeks of Thanksgiving. They do NOT get plugged in until the official start of the holiday, the day after Thanksgiving (don’t even get me started about stores and people that fudge that start date). Our lights are proudly displayed throughout the holiday season, which ends the day after New Year’s, at which point the plug is pulled. I will grant some leeway for the white lights if it is: 1) cold, and 2) snowy. Once the snow and cold moderate, turn off the lights, thank-you.

I think there are homes in Edina that must be competing for how long they can leave their lights up. Seriously, it is a land that time has forgotten; you would swear Christmas is just around the corner, with so many light displays still burning brightly. I made a snide comment last week and my son immediately defended the ones with “white lights”  as being OK in the winter. No, unless you are serving dinners on your patio, just no. Lights are wrong when approaching April.  I don’t even like the red ones for Valentine’s Day or the green ones for St Patrick’s Day. Lights are for Christmas. The reason they are pretty during the holidays is because they are special, as in DOESN’T HAPPEN OFTEN. If we keep lights up until spring and beyond, then it isn’t special at Christmas. I blame these selfish, light hoarders for ruining the “Christmas Spirit” for the rest of us.

It isn’t as if we have had a winter like LAST year. Last year, I understood, everyone understood, you would have to have been from Mars (or Florida) to not have understood. I couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to step foot outside in the God-awful, frozen tundra.  So no, I don’t really fault anyone for leaving them up, but then simply unplug them, how difficult is that? When illuminated in March, I can only conclude that these people are lazy. Don’t they see them? Aren’t they embarrassed?

As if the lights aren’t enough, I have noticed two other holiday displays still in place as recently as today, and in my own city!  One, a display of wooden cutouts of Santa and Mrs. Claus, and a few other figures, life size no less, and the other is another festive garland of fake pine boughs and festively bright, red bows adorning a charming picket fence spanning a few hundred feet. Both of these holiday trimmings took a great deal of effort to install (more than I would expend), so clearly, these people have had periods where they have experienced bursts of energy. Why have they not noticed what month it is, and if they are aware that St. Patrick’s Day is next week, why are the adornments still adorning?

I know that it is none of my business, and I will not say a thing to them, write them a discrete note, look up city statutes, or even gift them with one of the many calendars I received from Christmas. I will simply pass by, bite my tongue, and maybe silently ask St. Lawrence (patron saint of the lazy) to give them a nudge.

The F Word(s)

I have learned. After LAST winter, I have experience. I know how to survive (and I know the correct prayers for no snow).

To survive winter, the key is in the F word or words….Fleece, Flannel and Fire.

Fleece – I bought a Fleece jacket at the U of Michigan M Den. I was cheap, so I bought it from the boys’ section. One of the benefits of being a short person, is that I can buy products from the boys’ section for much less money. In the winter, I wear this jacket about 80% of my waking hours. I confess, I have two jackets, both equally warm, but one has bright yellow shoulders and is a bit flashy. I wear it only while in Michigan or on game days, cuz, well it is game day so people here need to deal.

Flannel – A few years ago, I made myself some flannel PJ’s, not the granny style, but the kind with a top, jacket style, and a separate bottom. Folks, these are warm, warm warm, and the beauty of it is you wear a tank underneath so it is comfortable while sleeping, just ditch the jacket.  I go from my fleece, to my workout, then to my flannel PJ’s. Very Minnesotan.

Fire – Best home improvement we ever did was to install a gas fireplace. I love wood burning fires, but I am terrified (and would worry endlessly) of a creosote fire happening from the buildup and I am not a fan of cleaning out the c*$p in a fireplace, not to mention the mess, and the smoke, and the danger. With the gas, you just turn it on and get warm. Did I mention the remote control?

As winter is finally loosening its grip on us, and spring is within reach (a possible 50 by next week), I realize that I haven’t complained once about this winter. I have survived nicely, the anti-snow prayers have been most effective, and I have found the F words get the job done.  As spring approaches, here is what I am most looking forward to:

Sunsets that you can actually watch and savor

Sleeping with the windows open

Long days and nights

Bonfires

Biking, oh, I have missed biking

Eating outside at restaurants

The sounds of children playing in the neighborhood (and even the fights, I like those very much)

The sounds of birds, owls, squirrels running through the woods, coyotes (when they're nice, and not  chewing cats), and the odd ramblings of wild turkeys

Color in the landscape, especially green (have you ever noticed that in winter on cloudy days, there is no color outside? Everything is gray, a little brown and white)

Lilacs

The first dandelion (makes me giddy, for real)

The smell of cut grass

Getting a new dog (I sure miss Claudia; this will be the first spring without her)

Thunderstorms

Activity on the lake involving boats and swimming and not shacks (good grief)

Margaritas and Gin and Tonics

Planting and smelling dirt

Talking to neighbors for longer than a quick wave and a hello

Grilling

Baseball games

How about you?

Winter is Dangerous

I have finally gotten to the root of my hatred for winter. Winter is dangerous.

Oh I know about the wonders of soft, fluffy flakes gently bouncing off of cheeks and lashes, got it. I also have experienced great times skiing on new powder, and sledding with the kids followed by sipping warm cocoa while our socks and mittens dry, yeah, yeah, yeah. I do know about the many “wonders” of winter, I am not a curmudgeon, but I am done with it all. Been there, done that and I am not amused.

As I have aged, I have found winter less appealing, more so each consecutive year. At first, I thought it was the cold – I hate being cold. I hate waking up with a chill in the room, however slight. I hate feeling chilly.

However, I actually don’t mind a brisk walk in the cold, if I am dressed for it. But I hate feeling my hands turn numb in less than a minute if I am not wearing mittens from the car to a store. Everyone knows you can’t wear mittens or gloves into a store because one will get lost - it will be left behind on a counter, in a cart, or parking lot. Everyone knows that. If you don’t, then you are most likely sporting a mismatched pair of something.

I also don’t like the snow on the roads. When it snows, people drive like 16 year olds – either way too slow or waaaay too fast. It’s a crapshoot out there.

Ice is my next complaint. Our city has decided that salt is evil and therefore, only uses it sparingly (after major accidents) on the roads. Living on a steep, S shaped hill is always challenging in the winter. If the ice doesn’t get me on the roads, it manages to surprise me on a sidewalk. It sneaks up on me and when I least expect it, down I go. What an adrenaline rush.

What really is hard about winter is when it gets dangerously cold. Like 20 below with a stiff wind insuring that, my dog, car and me are all going to die if I spend over a minute outside. I say a prayer to the patron saint of car mechanics and hope it works (in case you are ever in need, her name is Saint Catherine of Alexandria).

It is always something in the winter. The other night, I smelled something funny and realized that my trusty space heater (which had been on 24/7 for about a month), was silently melting. Dang. I really needed that heater for our family room, which has windows on three sides.

Next up, the electricity got all sassy just because I had a space heater and two hair dryers going at once. Everything went dark. Try and have the house go dark on a freezing cold night and see what that does to your psyche.

Have I mentioned the cracks, and inexplicable noises I hear when it is really cold? The sonic booms my roof makes when ice is cracking? Or the groans from the deck when I replace the birdseed? It sounds like the deck is going down and taking me to the snowy depths below.

I am not even going to get into carbon moxide poisoning, frozen water pipes, fires caused by dirty fireplaces, and ice damns.

I cower like a dog in this weather. I retreat to a warm room with my charged Kindle and just wait it out. I pray to Santa Ana (patron saint of heat and grace) and ask for more degrees. I wait, believing Julie Andrews that “these silver white winters will melt into springs.”

And, just as I am feeling a little bit OK that things will be fine, I must listen to every radio and TV news announcer tell me about how dangerous this icy world is. They report every spin out, every story of human frostbite, and every missing digit that fell victim to the snow blower. They talk incessantly of how to recognize hypothermia and what to put into your emergency survival kit so that if you get stuck on the way to the liquor store, you can survive (what the heck, good reason to pull over and eat the chocolate in the kit).

If I get stuck, I really hope it’s on my way back from the liquor store. Just saying.

Click here for safety tips!

On the fence and I am not coming down.......

I am on the fence.

There has been so much fanfare about the recent failure of the senate to pass gun control legislation. Facebook was all over it last week. The people on the left side of this argument are angry with the NRA for exerting its considerable influence over the senators. The people on the right are angry that legislation is being considered as a “feel good” measure only.

First of all, I want to be as safe as the next person, but I don’t like… hate… abhor guns in my home. They scare the beegeezus out of me and I want them as far away from me as possible. As for hunting rifles, I could no more shoot an animal than I could streak naked down the street. I have no use for them and I fear them more than I fear an intruder will some day appear in the darkness of my home, CSI style.

I also completely understand another person’s fascination and attraction to guns. Not all gun owners and wannabe gun owners are crazy. As much as I abhor them, I can see why some people find them fascinating and cool, much like cars, computers, and rockets. I think they can serve a useful purpose and I admit, I have imagined trying one out at a gun range.

I have just a couple of problems with this gun business and they illustrate quite nicely why I am on a fence…..

I am not sure why individuals need to own guns that can fire several hundred rounds per minute (and that number is conservative). I just double-checked the calendar and it is, indeed, 2013. The British, Spanish, and French are long gone and currently, no country is attempting to expand its empire, north, south, east or west. I think the only thing we have to fear, is fear itself…So, defending ourselves against foreign (or domestic) interests seems far fetched, at least to me. I am decidedly all in favor of limiting and perhaps even banning assault weapons. No fence needed.

I am also very much a sister to those who would prefer people who are not of sound mind or who have broken some major, bad ass laws be kept as far away from guns as possible. Good idea. For sure. The only problem I see is that these types of people are not the ones walking into gun stores and shopping around. They get their guns from people who have passed those safeguard checks. Expanding the background checks will not make me feel safer, even a little bit. The bad people are bad people. They steal, trespass, lie, and shoot at the good guys. So passing a law that only tightens background checks seems like a law to make everyone feel better even if it won’t actually make them safer. Personally, it feels like a waste of time.

So what to do? Clearly, we have a big problem in this country. A lot of people own guns, too many. I do admit cheering for the storeowner who, when a bad guy tries to unlawfully grab his money, deftly procures a gun and says, “Make my day,” aka Clint style. Love those stories, they never get old. Yay for guns!

Then there are the tragic stories of children examining a gun they have discovered and it goes off, maiming or killing someone - heartbreaking episodes that leave me filled with anger and grief for that child.

I would like to think that gun owners keep guns in secure, locked locations, far away from children, and would be thieves. Some do, but far too many do not.

A few months ago, I read that locally, some children found a gun and one fatally shot the other by accident. It turns out that the father owned several guns and he kept them hidden in very clever places all over the home - in a basket of laundry (it was in the basement, so it was all good) in a duffle bag in a closet (dark, so that for sure, is safe), and under his pillow (completely safe) and that one was loaded, ready to go for God knows what…I don’t know what to think of this guy. Kids explore everywhere, they leave no stone unturned, nothing is secret (they get it from looking for the Christmas presents, duh). The guy was grief stricken and I wanted to throttle him.

Here is what I suggest:

1. We should require IQ tests, in addition to background checks because stupid people should not own guns, period. Sadly, there are a lot of stupid people out there.

2. We should check the level of testosterone in a candidate’s blood. The higher the level, the smaller the gun. Period.

3. We should punish, in the harshest way, any gun owner who does not lock up his or her guns. If they are stolen because they were available, then that owner should be held responsible for the subsequent consequences from that gun. If an innocent misuses it because it is not locked, then the gun owner gets in big, bad trouble. Grieving is NOT punishment enough.

I believe in the right to bear arms. I also believe that those arms do not need to be sufficient to wipe out a village. I think we should limit the amount and type a person should own and should be able to legislate how they must be stored.

I am just not sure how to do all of that. Until I do, I am staying on the fence.