Perhaps in keeping with yesterday’s theme of bad neighbors, I found this story about a 10-year-old boy who shot his neo-Nazi dad to death strangely moving:
At a meeting the day before he was shot, Mr. Hall hoisted a swastika banner, not far from his newborn’s bassinet. His 10-year-old son listened as Mr. Hall spoke of finding rotting bodies on the border and discussed fears of being attacked with “AIDS-infected blood” if the group was to rally in San Francisco.
After the meeting, members drifted outside to smoke and drink.
The boy sat nearby on the steps. Was he having a good time? a reporter asked. Yes, he said, though he was annoyed by his four younger sisters. But he was the eldest, he added, and a boy. “And boys are more important,” he said.
That night, Jeff Hall apparently went out with some of his members. He arrived home about midnight and, four hours later, the police received a call about shots fired.
The boy shot his father in the wee small hours. Read the story, though, and you see that the family was already the subject of a reporting project on the neo-Nazi movement, which explains the many observed details of its particular family life, which ran from hate rallies to baby showers.
That is, of course, the story of many families, the way the daily details of our life are each member’s version of “normal,” whether it’s the way we eat dinner or what we hang on our walls. Try to imagine many of the details of those wonderful stories we told yesterday from the perspective of the people on the other side. Everything’s relative.
If I sound like I’m not making sense this morning, there’s a good reason. Kate is off on another of her last-year-of-middle-school weekend trips, and I was up at some ghastly hour to drop her at yet another idling bus. Destination: Chicago, for some choir thing, plus the usual — Navy Pier, cruise on the river, Magnificent Mile, etc. This isn’t even the last one, either. In another month, there’s a day trip to Cedar Point to celebrate the end of it all. I should travel this much.
Anyway, I came home, fell back into bed and woke up at 9:30 from a dream that immediately slipped out the window, and the sense that I’d wasted half the day. In some ways, I have. So time to publish and get outta here.
Fortunately, I have some bloggage:
Thanks to my former colleague Bob Caylor for this story, with a sentence that’s surely the best one in a month of News ‘n’ Sentinels:
For a politician, he was exceptionally unconcerned about appearances, from the unmade bed to the explicit images of male-female couples performing sex acts that flickered on the screen of the room’s muted television throughout the interview.
Long made short: One of those crazy people who file for local office actually won his primary, and now the party is trying to get him disqualified. He’s claiming a right-wing conspiracy, “like Hillary Clinton said about Bill,” only the party trying to get him booted from the ballot is actually the Democratic one. I thought Bob handled it deftly, but then, he’s had lots of practice.
“Since last week, the number of people who have incorrectly stated that all SEAL members must do 300 pull-ups in a minute, earn advanced calculus degrees from MIT, and be able to hold their breath underwater for an hour, has been extraordinarily high,” said Pentagon press secretary Geoff Morrell, adding that the comment, “I heard you need to be able shoot a quarter from a mile away after running for four hours straight,” has been idiotically uttered in more than 65 percent of discussions related to the military operation.
Finally, Mississippi flooding photos, from the Atlantic’s In Focus picture blog. As a former resident of a city that floods, I thought you couldn’t surprise me with a flood picture. Turns out you can.
Off to the boatyard! Mast goes up today. Maybe something on the fun tomorrow.