Yesterday I was doing some editing and talking on the phone, when I was told to look at the news. A man had taken hostages at the Discovery Channel just outside of Washington, DC. There was a gun, and possibly explosives. I got off the phone. I put on CNN. I watched, and then had parenting duties.
I put the television back on a few hours later. It was over. He was dead. The hostages were released. Whether or not he had a family, I don’t know. For them, his death is a tragedy. For those who lived through the afternoon of terror, there will be a slow path to regaining a sense of normalcy, if ever.
Yesterday I read a friend’s writing about her pregnancy; she’s waiting on news. News that everything is alright. She’s scared. A new life hangs in the balance. She asked for prayers, and many of us added to that very private, very particular chorus of entreaties.
Last evening, my son gave me a paper to glance at. As a high school student, gone are the days when the subject matter is straightforward, or something I master from my own school days, or “just life.” But this was of interest – an extensive piece of research in the works, on Vietnam and the news media.
