Wild West

New England braces for a northeaster tomorrow, and I am flying out to Atlanta from Boston tomorrow, hopefully.

  Now, this is the kind of house that looks wonderful at Christmas time, with simple white candles lit in the windows.  I've been walking along our common and up some of the little roads out of our village to look at the old houses lit up for Christmas. It's very cold here, so I'm all bundled up in wool, and everyone inside these houses that date back to the 1700s is warm and toasty, their simple Christmas trees twinkling at the front windows.  In New England, simplicity is extremely tasteful.

Meanwhile, the teachers in my building and I have done nothing to speak of to prepare for Christmas, except to watch Netflix movies at night and eat junk food.  Marie's mom sent her a wreath, so that's up over the couch in the common room where Marie and Kathryn watch movies on a computer and eat Cheese-Its for dinner. I suppose I should be the mom of the house and bake Christmas cookies to everyone's delight, but I'm really lazy.  Yesterday afternoon, with school out for vacation, I  got hit with those Christmas blues that come on you all of a sudden.  I can't explain that sadness that comes over me, except to guess that I realize more and more how futile our efforts can be in life in regard to making things come out right.  I can't really protect my grown children and grandchildren, except in small ways, and I can't prevent bad things from happening in the world. 

What precipitated this feeling was a phone call with my son, who is a border patrol agent.  He told me that an agent he knew was murdered, shot in the back, this week.  He was shot by bandits, the men who rob and hurt Mexicans coming over our border.  Apparently he and some other agents had been tracking these bandits for a while.  My son's friend was the only one killed, and my son was very upset.  They were about the same age.  I feel so sad for the family of this agent.  I feel worried for my son, who "protects" me by saying he's careful and nothing will happen to him.   People say we are bad neighbors to Mexico.  I have to say, after having spent some time in Southern Mexico, that they are held hostage by their own corrupt government.  I have no solutions to that problem; it's Mexico's problem.