London

I am a news junkie. I spend almost my entire day listening to NPR.* Concentrating on the news rolling across the wire instead of the mundane and often infuriating aspects of raising a child helps keep me sane. I discovered this trick on my last job, which was almost as mundane and infuriating but at least had significantly less screaming. Now I use a network of three strategically place radios spread throughout the house, all of which are often simultaneously turned on to the same station so I can move seamlessly throughout the house without missing a word on that report on how a particular type of sponge makes a really hard kind of glass. During the day, the radio is often the only place I hear anything resembling adult conversation given Abbie’s propensity to screech and continuing inability to talk even though she has to hear the phrase “This is NPR” at least 50 times every day.

My news junkie status meant I woke up yesterday, like much of America, to the news of the horrible bombings in London, but not from the radio. The first thing I do in the morning is work for a little while before the Time Guzzler awakens. I don’t write so good with the radio on in the background,** so I leave it off while working. I include in the word “work” not only the time spent accomplishing something constructive, or as close to constructive as writing Abbieupdate gets, but the time spent surfing the internet before constructing anything to prime the mental pump. I knew it would be a hard day when the first site I visited, a pop culture-related blog, began with “Everybody’s heard by now … about the bombings in London.” After poking around the internet for a little longer than usual to find all I could about the bombings, which wasn’t much at the time, I worked for a little while before spending the next four hours listening to ghastly reports trickle into the states.

My closest connection to London is a vague realization that my unknown ancestors likely emigrated from the UK. Even though the closest I’ve journeyed to London is Maine, and central Maine at that, I still felt a sense of loss and vulnerability. Similar bombings could easily occur in any city in America, or the world. Three bombs may have exploded in the subways, or tubes (I wish I hadn’t learned the lingo this way), which most cities don’t have, but the deadliest bomb may have exploded on the bus. I’ve ridden enough buses to imagine a similar bomb detonating near me.

Abbie is far too young to comprehend acts of terrorism; she’ll have to comprehend the consequences of putting rocks in her mouth before she can understand such a horrific concept. Hopefully I’ve still got a few years before I have to calm her after hearing about the latest appalling act. As long as I’m wishing, hopefully there will never be another appalling act to hear about. In the meantime, my thoughts are in London.

* If the Cubs are playing and haven’t fallen hopelessly behind yet, I’ll switch to the Cubs game, but even then I’ve been known to turn the television on to the Cubs game with the sound off and keep NPR on the radio.

** Want proof? I’m listening to the Cubs paste the Marlins right now.