Wednesday, December 3

Hairbrush Hand Grenades

This morning, CBC radio had an extensive report on gang activity in Canada. 'Turns out, our land is rife with gangs and they are wildly out of control. The younger generation of "gangster" is not governed by the decorum of their forefathers: they are carrying their weapons as badges of honor and wielding them publicly and with no thought of anonymity. The killings that once took place in back rooms and underneath bridges and in old cars are now occurring in front of children's hospitals and in residential areas.

Our own neighborhood is feeling a little dodgy of late. Houses, just a few blocks away, are invaded, their resident's bound, babies and all. Homes are riddled with bullets. Drug deals go down in my back alley. Yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon, I watched as the police drove off with one of my neighbors in their backseat.

Last night as I was scrubbing the dishes, I happened to glance up to see my sons in the living room. The lights were off, except for seasonal glow of the Christmas tree. The three of them were playing a game, content to be together and uninterrupted. At ease. Unthreatened. It was a vision of unmarred sanctuary.

For the past several days the guys have been waging war throughout the house. Sticks, water guns, air soft guns, belts, the ab roller (thank goodness it's getting some sort of workout), and a couple of hairbrushes make up their arsenal. Men rise and fall as strategies are worked and re-worked. I don't know who's at war or if the "good" guys are winning, I only know that it's a fight to the death.

While my sons lob their hairbrush hand grenades and fire imaginary bullets at contrived enemies, the sons of others are raising very real weapons, tilting them to the side, and firing ~ as many shots as they can squeeze off (another unique trait of the new generation of bad guy) ~ into the heads and chests of their rivals.

As this contrast sharpens in my city ~ on my street ~ I do not know what our family's response will be. We are affected by it. Daily. My boys need to learn independence, but they know what's out there and their not crazy about braving it alone. I know what's out there, and I don't want them to die. And I don't want them to be drawn into that world. That world. Two doors, ten doors down, two blocks over. That world that is so far removed from the peace of this home, but so unnervingly close.

The CBC didn't attempt to end their report on a positive note. There's not a lot of hope out there that this very old threat can be efficiently dealt with in new ways.

I'll hold on to hope, I think. Hope that fatherless boys will encounter purpose ~ Purpose that outranks fat bank accounts and violent power. Hope that dead morals and dull ethics will find fresh meaning in reborn souls. Hope that justice and Right will win the day.

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