The Abdication of Responsibility
I admit that I never heard the hoopla. I'm catching up well after the fact. Perhaps that's a good thing; initial reports so often are fast and inaccurate. Still, it was a bit disconcerting to find out how much I had missed. No, Brother informed me, Ferguson was not a person. Rather, it was a town in turmoil. I'd been in total baby mode; the news which interested me was related to a seven pound human. If it wasn't FJ-centric, I didn't notice it. The kids, used to catching up on current events on their phones, never had the news on the television. Newspapers are an anachronism in their suburban neighborhood. I listened to country music on their XM radio in the car. I was cut off. I didn't care. Then, the kids went out on a post-baby-first-date. Brother and I were providing child care; once FJ fell asleep and the left-over pizza was boxed up in the refrigerator, I put Daddooooo's favorite talking head, Gwen Ifill, on the scr...