To the editor:
I am furious. I am afraid.
I have been afraid before, many times. But somehow I could see an end to those fears. Not now.
Is it because I’m old? 76. The “target audience.”
Is it because this is not in my plan, nor anyone else’s? Or because it is so mysterious?
I have lived through the end of a war. I know well how to “take cover.” I celebrated when the polio vaccine alleviated some of my fears in the ‘50s. I was a product of Jerry Lewis and telethons. I was elated to escape MS, CP, and all other diseases that could affect me at a certain age.
I so recall Ebola, SARS and Zika. I get all my shots, have a cadre of doctors. But what to do now? Wash my hands, and wash more.
I worry about my family in other states, and the grandkids. I worry for the other families, for my friends. I worry for the world. Once I had a mom and dad to help with my worry. But no more. I am now the mom. And I have fewer years in front than behind me.
I still have plans and “miles to go.” I am mad. I cannot have faith in my country. It is ruled by a maniac with a red baseball cap.
I want my life back. I want you to reclaim yours.
What can we do? Let’s make a Riverdale plan.