Woke up this morning to news of the marathon bombing ... two suspects, brothers, one dead, the other probably won't end well (that's what I think).  So deeply, incredibly, sad for a thing like this to make sense to somebody.  At my home we pray for the victims whose lives pivot on the flash point ... and the "helpers" ...  God speed.  Crazy.  Crazy is the only word that comes to the edge of my mind as I attempt to think about this.  At the dinner table we talk about the many small freedoms that Americans take for granted ... we come and go, gather together or seek isolated challenges to exercise community and/or independence.  Yesterday I saw an image of American soldiers who sacrificed limbs on foreign soil, a group was organized for some sort of warrior recognition.  They were operating those low bike things.  At the grocery store I see men with amazing metal appendages ... they still wear their hair high and tight ... .  I think one may be required to become a warrior in a flash, right in ones own neighborhood it seems. Crazy.
And, it seems so odd to me this morning that I can hear Patsy Cline singing way back there when the world was black and white ... it's located somewhere above and behind my left ear folded deep in the grey matter ... so sweet it makes my teeth hurt.