I used to be a journalist, and maybe, 40 years ago, if I was in the midst of it, I didn't notice the headlines. Referring to the Boston bombings, I do.
So many journalists are young. I felt a touch of reality when the people reporting this attack almost lost it when they commented how volunteer first responders were overcome by blasted feet, legs, arms and bodies. The reporters were, too, and were genuine in their reports. They let their own shock through, too. Good.
I understand there are those already making jokes about it. These are very immature, dysfunctional or emotionally dead folks. Do these same folk make jokes about tornadoes and hurricanes?
They aren't invited to my home to break bread.
Funny. I am pretty tolerant except about this: I will not break bread with you unless I have made peace with you. If I have not, I am not looking to cause you trouble. Neither will I break bread, support you, or vouch for you. I will do nothing to cause you harm. I will do nothing if harm comes your way. Children different. That has nothing to do with you. I refuse to break bread with so very few, they probably don't realize I am not doing it. I'm not a showoff. It seems somehow archaic on my part.
But if you eat at my table, or I at yours, we must have some amity. I am a fat old LOL. And I don't want to go to war.
Just know, if ever you are at my table and I pass you the bread, you are pretty high in my book.