My child isn't growing up in the world that I did.

Or maybe she is.  I look back at my childhood and remember really only decent stuff.  If I dig into the deep corners of my brain, there are the things--

Vietnam and Watergate were going on when I was born.
We had the Unabomber who was active from 1978-1995.  I distinctly recall that sketch of him and that it was posted at the bread store that we shopped at.
Adam Walsh was abducted.
The Cold War was going on.
President Reagan was shot.
The stock market crashed when I was in high school and people were so horribly distraught that they were jumping out of windows.
We had the Oklahoma City Bombing.  The little girl that the firefighter was holding was Baylee.  That is who our Bailey was named for.  (Scroll down and it is on the right.)
We had the World Trade Center Bombing in 1993 and 9/11.
We've had school shootings, but by my historical look back-- they have existed from as far back as 1760.  It was interesting to find out that historically, it isn't as rare as I thought it was.  It is a bit more frequent, but I thought it only started with Paducah.  It didn't.  (I hadn't counted Kent State, our Alma Mater in there since it was a college and not a public school.)
We had the Lockerbie Pan Am Flight 103.
We've had terrorism since the beginning of time.  When I state terrorism, I don't mean just foreign.  We've had our fair share of domestic terrorism as well.

I could go on (it doesn't even come close to encompassing horrible things that happened), but growing up, I do recall worrying a lot about abductors.  It seemed to be the thing.  That and rapists and people being murdered.  There was the aunt of someone we knew who was found deceased in her trunk, on the expressway shoulder, right behind our property.  (3 acres, so it was a ways back.)  Still.

People stole cars.  Now people blow people up with pressure cookers.

K's school has lockdown drills on a regular basis.  All of our kids who aren't homeschooled do.  It is built into her being at school and it doesn't unnerve her.  That's a good thing.  She's been trained to throw books at the bad guy.  She's been taught how to escape.  She's been taught how to huddle in a corner with her classmates and to be really quiet.

It makes me sad that we've come to this.  We had tornado drills and fire drills when I grew up.  My grandma had me pretty wired to freak out for storm warnings.  I've since reprogrammed myself and education has taught me that freaking out about storms isn't going to stop them.

People put crap in the Halloween candy and Mom had to stop making those yummy popcorn balls.  Then, there were the special treats that you made for the neighborhood kids and the pre-packaged things that you gave to everyone else.

K's life is now a lot of airport security when we go by flight.  We've stopped flying to Chicago because by the time we go to the airport and wait a ton, fly there and get through, we could have just driven and paid less, so we do.

She thinks that we've always had to surrender our shoes, pack tiny bottles of toiletries and go through the potential pat-down.

She thinks that we've always had to hand over our ID and to sign our life away to purchase cold medicine or cough syrup.

Childhood for me had stuff, but maybe I'm looking at it through a mothers eyes.  Maybe that is the reason of why it looks a lot worse to me.

K knows about the Boston Marathon Bombing.  She also knows that we refuse to stay home and would not think of not supporting Aunt K as she runs her marathons.  If Aunt K wants us there, we'll go.  Despite the horrible things that happen, those that are going through all of this want us to lift them up in prayer.  They don't want us to discontinue living because they were injured as they were living theirs.  They don't want the terrorists to win and we don't want to, either.

We need to, as so many have pointed out, look at  the helpers.  Look at how those that stopped, jumped fences, held people and helped them as they were injured.  Look at the people who have opened their homes, offered their funds, fed and comforted.  Truly, this is not something that surprises me about Boston.  When we were there in 2006 for the 110th running of the Boston Marathon, everyone (and I mean everyone) we encountered was wonderful.  What an example of love.

I know that I'm rambling.  I get it from my mom.  It's just a journal.  If you hung in there, good on you.