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Lily Alice7:22 PM - Public
I still can't talk about this. I just cry. You can actually blame hormones for a lot of that; I'm not a news cryer. However. I'm a mother. None of my children have gone to school in a school building since 1997, so four of them never went at all. And every time this happened, and when we thought the sky was falling and New York was under attack and the horizon was orange, and that time even Amish mothers' babies weren't safe, we were at home, and we were safe.
Stop this. Stop it now. We want you to hunt for food. We want you to feel like you can protect your home. But this is not that. Do you get it now? There's a great deal of in-between that must be covered, repaired, protected, right now.
via +steph wanamaker
Daria Musk originally shared this post:
Day Three In Newtown
An email I received from my mama (+Wendy Musk) a teacher in a small school just down the road from Sandy Hook Elementary. She was in lock down with her kids for five hours, heroic and loving, not knowing which school was under attack on Friday.
I couldn't sleep. I finally gave up and got dressed and went into town. This little place was founded as a village in 1706; 70 years before the Declaration of Independence. It was a Tory town when the Revolutionary War broke out, but the sons of Newtown hiked to New Haven to join the Sons of Liberty and eventually fathers followed sons. I expect the women just wanted everyone to be safe although I imagine they had a spark of independence and rebelliousness in them.
At the center of town, the rolling meadow called Ram Pasture, the spot where we light the town Christmas tree, where the high school chorus sings carols, where Daria sang a capella Silent Night each year, where she sang after 9/11...at that place, twenty seven candles are burning night and day. At the intersection an altar has materialized with votive candles and a hand drawn sign, Pray for Newtown.
I had to go to town today. A secret service agent held the door for me at Starbucks. He was talking into his sleeve like in the movies. The president is coming to Newtown today and our shopping district, all two streets with its couple of grocery stores, a CVS , a gas station that still washes your windows and pumps gas for you, three churches, a bagel shop and Starbucks is now a press encampment. Satellite dishes and long range lenses, news people I recognize from television, others speaking various foreign languages are here to watch us weep. I came to town because I could not cry, but when the barrista who makes my coffee in the morning before school asked if my family was safe and wouldn't let me pay for the coffee, I burst into tears. I drove down to the traffic jam that's clogging the road to Sandy Hook. People are leaving flowers and teddy bears at makeshift shrines.
It is raining; how could it not be.