I wake up to the news on NPR every morning. This morning it left me so depressed I didn’t want to get out of bed. It’s not that the news was any worse than usual. It was the utter hopelessness of what they were saying, and not saying. After relating the statement released by Cho’s family they went on the talk to a journalist who wrote a book about his son’s mental illness, his attempts to get treatment for him; bad laws and the impossibility of getting decent help for the mentally ill under our current health insurance system.

From there they went on to a survey of the stress and suffering of Iraqi children; then the current craze among our own children for getting high on cough medicine; a push for new laws regulating the sale of the stuff to minors; the resistance of manufacturers to any kind of regulation. By the time they got to the Supreme Court decision about the latest infringement on women’s rights I couldn’t decide whether to pull the pillow over my head and stay in bed or get up and scream. But it’s the things they don’t talk about that really get to me.

First, why aren’t we talking about gun control. I understand we can’t outlaw guns. But just as we regulate the sale and use of cars, also potential weapons, we should demand that every gun owner know how to use a gun, get a license for its use and possession, and in what seems to be the only thing our society understands, require high-priced liability insurance before being able to possess a gun, paid for in cash, in advance.

Second, let’s acknowledge that we are a drug culture. If we make it tough for teens to get cough medicine, they’ll use something else. I don’t know how we can deal with this, but reining in the drug ads on TV would be a good starting point. Isn’t it time we look at why kids are doing this and what alternatives we can give them.

I can’t speak about the Iraqi children. I’ve been in despair about Iraq from the moment we began talking about going in there. I’ve also been in despair about the Bush government. I think only God can do something about them, and I don’t think He’s been heard from in at least 2000 years.

I think we could do a lot about mental illness in this country. We seem to have no will to do anything constructive about it, in part because no one’s figured out a good way to make money from it. That’s probably the biggest problem we have; everything depends on making money, not impeding a company’s ability to make money, valuing wealth above all else.

I can get pretty worked up about women’s rights, also. I’ve learned that it’s not productive to let anger rule my life. Having lived through the fifties when women were supposed to have orgasms with their vacuum cleaners and washing machines, when my career choices were teacher, secretary, social worker, nurse, if I ever unleashed my anger, I would become a screaming banshee.

I don’t want to end on this bitter note. It was really a beautiful day, warm, sunny, truly spring. I went to the CMU campus for the buggy races, walked over to the library, did other nice things. It’s almost too easy to enjoy the day, forget all the pain.

Waiting for the last race.

Buggy No. 1. The buggy, the silver thing on the left, gets pushed up the hill by a fast runner then is released to run down the hill. It’s steered by a very small person lying down inside. As it starts up the next hill another runner grabs it and pushes it up.

Buggy No. 2.

If you listen to the radio or read the newspaper, Pittsburgh’s biggest problem seems to be keeping the Penguins hockey team in the city. Everyone, including Gov. Rendell, seems to be working on this. At the same time the transit system has announced massive cuts to take effect in June. I don’t understand why the mayor, the governor and everyone else isn’t working on a way to enlarge and promote public transportation. This would be a much greater public benefit than building a new stadium for a sports team. How do people who can’t afford cars get to work? How do those massive numbers of students get to school? There is no place to park, even if they can afford cars. I guess the answer is we should all buy a ticket to the hockey game and forget everything else. 

I’ve had a generally good relationship with Amazon, buying many things from them. But I’m still brooding over my last go-round. Last year I bought three new humidifiers at about $15 each. Then I found out that filters would cost me $10 each. That was the first annoyance in this weird chain of aggravation.

Because it’s been mostly warm this fall I didn’t think about the humidifiers until after Thanksgiving. Then I went on line to order filters. The first website I found purported to have them but wasn’t taking any orders. I don’t understand that either. I finally found them at Amazon, from one of their associates, or whatever they call them. On Dec.1 I ordered six filters for $40, obviously a bargain. I received several of the usual automated emails from Amazon assuring me my filters would be shipped, probably on December 4 or 5. Great! On Dec. 5 I found a box at my front door. I was happy, until I opened the box. There were six filters, all the wrong size and shape.

I went back to Amazon. Somewhere on their website it says you can call them if you have a problem. I was sure this would solve my problem. You put your phone number in their interactive box and specify when you want to be called: right away or another time. I clicked right away and my phone began to ring. I couldn’t believe it. Nothing else happens that fast for me on the Internet. A mechanical voice instructed me to hold on while they connect me with the proper person. It took two tries, but I finally got connected to a woman in India. She sort of got the gist of what I was saying, and I sort of got the gist of what she was saying. I suppose she had as much trouble with my accent as I had with hers. I think she directed me back to the website where I could send an email to the seller, which I did. After many emails from Amazon and from the seller, and several from me to the seller, my money has been refunded, and I’ve been told to trash the useless filters. And, of course, I still don’t have the filters I need. I think it’s nice they refunded my money. I’m offended by the idea of trashing the filters, and I still have a problem.

I wanted to write all this to Amazon, but, except for the Indian woman, I think the whole place is automated–untouched by human hands. So I’m writing it all here in hopes that a human from Amazon will see it and make their usually good system even better.

The line, said by the policeman to two little children, was, "If you have no money, you must think about dying." The people next to me, adults, not children, laughed. This was minutes into a performance of Brundibar, and after an opening act showing the family, with yellow stars sewn on their clothing, choosing their most treasured belongings and  getting ready to leave their home. The opera, a fairy tale for children, had some amusing moments. There are wonderful performances by a cat, a dog and a sparrow. Very amusing, but I still could not laugh. The children who came to this performance as innocents, would not be troubled by its history, or even its newly added curtain raiser. But none of the children laughed at this horrendous line, only the three adults sitting near me. What kind of denial, or mania, prompted their laughter? It bothered me all day, and it still bothers me.