I will try to cover it unemotionally in the Swamp Postcard tomorrow- short words, bullet points. Take away the urge to rail about the madness of men and the complete absence of conscience and compassion.

I love the way the sun comes up down in Culpeper. The fields illuminate first, and then the golden light flows through the glass of the back door gently reminding me that I should probably get it in gear, make the bed and start the exit check-list. I did not hear about the atrocity until I turned on the radio and switched from the satellite to WTOP, the local news and traffic channel. “Not again, I murmured. Not again.”

It was a lovely day for the drive back to Arlington- bottomless blue skies, just a hint of crispness to the air. The trees have not started to change yet, and the countryside that flew by ws lush and green.

Going back north you can feel the tempo increase with each traffic signal. At Warrenton things start to get serious with aggressive rivers and increasing speed. I listened to some classic rock for a while, and then the speakerphone in the Panzer went off. It was Old Jim, calling to tell me that he and Chanteuse Mary were fine out there in their Las Vegas retirement place, and that Mary’s extended family- mostly exiles from Detroit- were safe as well.

I thanked him for his courtesy in letting me know, since I had been wondering, and made a note to let the old Willow gang know they were OK.

But there are so many who are not. I am one of millions of people who just want to know “Why? Why in the name of God would someone do something like this, if not for politics or religion. Why?”

Then I gave up and changed the channel on the radio to “news” and let the media accounts of the horror wave over my thoughts. Not that the pundits had any answers. Maybe something will eventually provide some motive for the sick sorry bastard. I don’t imagine that will solve anything. But why?

Copyright 2017 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotracom