Church Shooting

On July 27, 2008, during a children's musical performance, a man entered the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church (TVUUC) and began shooting. He was reportedly intent on killing "liberals."

He killed one TVUUC member, Greg McKendry, 60, an usher and long-time congregant who stood in front of the gunman to protect other church members. Linda Kraeger, 61, a member of Westside Unitarian Universalist Church (located in Farragut, Tennessee) who was visiting TVUUC for the performance, died in a hospital later. Six adults were also injured but no children. The gunman was tackled by congregants and eventually taken into police custody.

In the wake of this horrific event, Unitarian Universalists have rallied to offer ministry and support to the affected members of both congregations.

Our kids are making origami paper cranes in Sunday school.

Comic Widow

So, apparently there's a word for me and it's Comic Widow. A great moniker, that. Sounds like a bunch of hilarious women yukking it up at the wake. But no, the comic widow is merely the spouse you deposit poolside with the kids while you get your geek on at the con.

Yes, my beloved and our dear friend NiceGrl made the rounds while the kids and I took in San Diego's museums, beaches and pool.

We reconnected at dinner. They'd be all exhausted and freaky, loaded with swag, dumping all of the information from their crania at once, their eyes all bugged out with over-stimulation, and a little moony over some of the celebs. There may have been squealing.

Unclear what impression this is having on Jones, who went with them on one of the days. He likes him some comics and cartoons -- the usual super heroes and such. Beloved turned him on to Avatar, and he is frequently to be found practicing his "air bending skills". Time will tell whether he manifests into a true fanboy.

I think next year I will venture inside. I do think I'd like some of the panels. And I could be more of a helpmate, standing in for him when two events are happening at the same time, bagging more freebies, fending off wookies, or Japanese schoolgirls, as the situation demanded.

My Dad, the D*mn H*ll *ss King

My father's really done it. Just like he said he would. He's moved back to Jamaica.

Me, I never knew Jamaica.  

Jamaica came to me in oily packages, carried in an auntie's suitcase. "Bun" an' cheese, hard dough with guava jelly,ackee and saltfish. It was in the patois that would sneak into my father's speech when talking cricket smack to his countrymen or exhorting me to "Comb your hair, you look like a rasta." In the hackneyed double entendres of his calypso records and the smell of petroleum, allspice, and clove.

Every few years, when I would visit, the nearest referent that came to my suburban mind was of Tommy and Annika accompanying Pippi Longstocking to the island where the natives have made her father a king. Later, "The Simpsons" would capture the zeitgeist completely...

BART
What's everyone's problem? I'm glad we're stranded! It'll be just like the Swiss Family Robinson, only with more cursing! We're gonna live like kings! D*mn, h*ll, *ss kings!

[As "Under the Sea" plays, a fantasy sequence is imagined with the kids living in a wonderful tree settlement. Martin takes a shower. Wendell uses a water slide. Sherri and Terri drive a bamboo and grass car. Ralph pigs out on food and a monkey butler brings Nelson a drink. Back to reality.]

BART
And every night the monkey butlers will regale us with jungle stories.

NELSON
How many monkey butlers will there be?

BART
One at first. But he'll train others.

[All the kids marvel at such a great future. Bart climbs down from the rock.]

BART
Good, let's get to work! Me and Nelson will build the treehouse. Martin, draw up plans for a coconut radio, and if possible, a coconut Nintendo system...

My father was no reality check. Despite all evidence to the contrary, his persistently romanticized memories of his island in the sun wooed everyone around him, including two American wives in succession. And then alienated two wives in succession when they realized he wasn't kidding about returning.

The mania to go home again infected many in the extended family. A cousin living in the US on a green card, when his legs were injured in a car wreck, got a big fat settlement, left his wife, and built a big house in Jamaica where he lived like a damn hell ass king, tended to by a fleet of cheap labor nurses. When the cheap labor nurses stole his money and burned his big house to the ground with his paraplegic behind still in it, and he had to beg his wife to sponsor him again, we all thought that would cure my father. But no, his dream lived on.

By all accounts, they've welcomed the native son, killed the fatted calf, and so on. He might not be living like a d*mn h*ll *ss king, but he's got a manservant and a driver and belongs to the club. He'll never have to pour the condensed milk into his own tea again. Now he's on us to move there. He'll get us all cush jobs and the kids will attend the finest boarding schools. what do I know? He's probably got it right.