Twas the week before Christmas

My mother and aunts used to say, if you have nothing positive to say, then remain silent.

And they also used to say that anything you say should fulfill a minimum of two of three conditions: Is it nice? Is it true? Is it necessary?

You'd never believe they actually tried to pass these ideas off on us, these six sisters who couldn't remain silent about their opinions if their very lives depended on it. They argued often, and with gusto, almost as much as they laughed, which they also did with great gusto.

Of course, my Aunt Grace also liked to say that differences should never be feared or avoided, because where there are no differences, there is only indifference.

I'm remembering all this today because I don't have anything positive or necessary to say about the state of our world. Everything I could think to say has been said, and I cannot imagine any solutions to the bitterness and violence that plague us. Bombs dropped on children in Aleppo. An ambassador assassinated in Turkey. Christmas shoppers mowed down by a truck in Berlin. And in the midst of all that, Trump was officially installed as the new president elect by sheep electors yesterday.

I am not indifferent. But I don't have a clue how to make any of it better. I have nothing positive to say.

So I'm remaining somewhat silent behind this screen, head down, doing my work, circling in my small space. I think we are all discombobulated. As long as I live I will never stop seeing the silent thousand yard stare of the dust covered, blood spattered children of Aleppo. As one reporter noted, Aleppo is a place where the children no longer cry.