It’s Saturday morning. One day I’m going to use some kind of crazy AI technology to crawl through everything I’ve ever written and tell me how many times I’ve started a paragraph with the words “It’s Saturday morning.” It’s a lot.
Yes, it’s swim season again - college swim season. In about three hours or so, my son will swim in his very first college meet. Marymount is swimming a tri-meet against Cabrini and St. Mary’s of Maryland. The Saints are about to go marching in, and we’ll be sitting in the stands.
It’s early now. I’m watching the Commissioner of the Maine Department of Public Safety briefing the press about the Lewiston gunman’s apparent suicide. The ASL interpreter is extremely animated. She is, as they say on the internet, a whole vibe.
I’m not so solipsistic that I don’t realize that a college swim meet is the least important thing in the on-fire world right now, and that the word “privilege” was coined for people like me who are not burying our dead today, and who are neither fleeing from a war zone nor trapped in one. Other than giving money where it’s needed and praying for everyone everywhere, and doing my own job and taking care of my own people, I can’t do a thing about the state of the world. I hope that everyone who is suffering now will be free and happy soon. Go Saints.
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