For Better or Worse!

Because I'm your friend, I'm going to let you in on a little secret.  Nobody told me.  And I never knew.  But, I want you to know.  I don't want you to go through life, as I have, and nobody ever telling you this. You know that glass of water sitting on your desk?  Or the cup of coffee that was made with water?  Yeah that one.  Guess what?  Chances are, it's recycled poop water!  Mmm hmmm!  Yes it is!  Where do you think all of that stuff goes when you flush?  Me?  I had no idea.  I guess I never gave it much thought.  I'm just glad when the "stuff" goes away and doesn't overflow.  That's about the extent of my thoughts on poop water.  Until last night.  Leave it to the nightly news to completely gross me out!

This story in particular made me gag.  Seriously. I'll wait why you read it.  Pay close attention to where it says "traces do escape via human waste and are flushed into our treatment plants, winding up in the water supply."  Aren't you grossed out too? I don't really care about the Prozac or birth control pills being in the water, I'll just be happy and not knocked up, no biggy!  BUT the "recycled", "treated" "whateveryouwanttocallit" wastewater -  I care that the water is being used again! For drinking!  I couldn't believe that Charlie Gibson didn't ask them, "And if they are unable to remove all traces of drugs, what makes you think that all of the poop is out?"  I mean really, I thought Charlie was a pretty good newsman but he missed the boat on this one. 

So, right about now, you may be saying "No worries, June.  I only drink bottled water."  Not so fast sister! You aren't much better off drinking that either.   Look here! So there! 

So, until further notice, or until they straighten this "shit" out, I will only be drinking wine!  If there's any poop residue from watering the grapes, I'm pretty sure the alcohol will kill it, no?

More later,
SNJ

I will never understand what could drive a teenage boy to pick up a weapon and shoot another teenage boy.  Teenagers!  Beaver's age.  How does this happen?  It's unspeakable.  Unthinkable.  And something I can not wrap my brain around.  I can not imagine the pain these mothers are going through.  One to have a son who was murdered.  And the other, a son who is a murderer.  How does this happen?

Ward got the call Sunday night about a body being found.  Calls were coming in, bits of information here and there.  But it looked like a teenager.  My heart sank.  I didn't want to hear anymore.  But at the same time I wanted to know what happened.  It's sickening.  He was just a young boy.  I have boys.  Then the call came that the body might be that of the kid that Wally was trying to help on his football team.  Ward and I had talked about this boy one night and the trouble he had been getting in.  That's when Wally spoke up and said he had been trying to help this boy out.  Trying to get him on the right track.  He had a crummy home life and Wally was trying to show him there was something better than what he was doing.  We looked at Wally in amazement.  17 years old.  Wasn't judging the kid for what he had done, but he saw what he could be.  This would tear Wally's heart out if this body turned out to be the friend he was trying to help.

Ward went to the scene yesterday morning.  The boy was still there.  Laid there all night.  That bothered me too.  Why couldn't they move him?  By the time the body was found on Sunday, it was getting dark.  They would have to wait until the morning to move him and collect the evidence.  It's not like on TV where they flood the scene with lights and do the investigation.  Ward says that's where mistakes are made.  It's better to search in the daylight.  As much as you try not to think about it, you wonder what if it were your son.  What if he laid there all night?  Stop.  Don't think about that.  I look at Beaver.  Looked at his smile and his eyes and secretly thank God, that it isn't my son that this happened to.  He looks back at me and wondering why I'm staring at him....

Last night, before our boys came home Ward talked about what he saw.  He needed to get it out and I had to listen.  I could not stomach what he saw or the descriptions he told me.  He was torn up.  I think it affected him, like it affected me, because this boy was so close in age to Beaver. (It turned out not to be Wally's friend) "He was smaller than Beaver, June.  Just a little guy.  Hair like Beavers" Ward went to visit the mother to explain what was going on with the investigation.  In this little town of ours, rumors are rampant as to what happened and he was afraid this would get back to the mother.  He explained that they would tell her what they could as the investigation progressed.  Her response?  It was probably what mine would have been too, "I don't want to know anything, until you have a complete picture and know everything."  No bits and pieces.  The whole thing.  Start to finish.  What happened to her son.  Knowing what they know so far, I can not imagine how she will deal with it when she is told. 

I will never understand this.  I didn't know this boy.  But I wonder if he hurt.  Did he feel any pain?  Did he suffer?  Was he scared?  Why, why, why? He's Beaver's age.  For Christ's sake, how does this happen?  How does the person who did this, just drive away?  Isn't your mind tormented by what you've done and seen?  Ward is 40.  It affected him to the bone.  It has to affect whoever did this.  How do you get to that point?  What was your life like, that you resort to picking up a gun and shooting someone?

For the life of me, I will just never understand this,
SNJ