Good morning, sunshine.

Good morning, sunshine. How does it feel to wake up and realize (finally) that your entire world has changed and will never be the same? It’s taken almost a month, but it’s finally sunk in. The stock options I had such faith in 18 months ago are worth about a third what they were then, and there’s very little light at the end of the rainbow. Still, I’m better off than the folks who bet the farm on a startup that’s now just a memory.
The old reliable stuff like TV, football, movies and entertainment in general doesn’t have the draw it once did. CNN’s the order of the day, and the news isn’t good.
They say that we’re in a national state of shock/mourning. They’re right. I’m shocked. I’m mourning our national lost innocence. We’re so short-sighted, and have even shorter memories. I think I now know what the country felt like on in December of 1963, a month after President Kennedy was assassinated. Lost, wandering, watching the news and not believing it.
I can’t believe that anthrax is a real threat, and that the Postal Service won’t spend the money to test its employees. That just doesn’t seem right. I can’t believe that we can bomb a country with almost pinpoint accuracy, yet we can’t get airport security right.
Maybe I’m on the road to recovery, and I’m grappling with denial. I hope things turn out. I hope “they” figure out everything, and get it under control. But mostly, I look at my little boy and pray that he’ll be ok, and that that blue envelope with the powder in it wasn’t what it could be. I pray that those two sheriff’s deputies who came and got it really tested it instead of just throwing it away, and that the test comes back saying it was just correcting fluid, or sand, or something other than what it could be.

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