All My Sons

Today's homicide report contained the account of three young latino men killed over the course of three hours in Pomona. A middle aged black man was gunned down while walking down a street in LA.

So, what else is new, right? Evidently Pomona hadn't seen a homicide in nearly a year. The chief of police Romero noted "you couldn't expect a year to go by without a homicide." So, I guess three deaths in one day sort of evened things out, huh?

Am I a fool to think there's something wrong with this sense of complacency? Or does change begin with awareness and compassion? Why should I care about deaths of strangers in another town?

I guess I have bought into the idea that we are all connected--that these acts of violence affect us all. A ripple effect radiates into the atmosphere with every deed of destruction, every shot fired, every malignant act of hatred.

All these names listed in the Homicide Report represent someone's son. Thank God, you say, it's not your son.

Have you ever seen the Arthur Miller play, "All My Sons"? It doesn't get much attention nowadays. Miller liked to dramatize a message. Today, we just want to be entertained. But Miller knew how to punch an emotional whollop. As I recall, the play revolves around a man who made a lot of money during WWII on defense equipment. As the story unfolds, he's grieving for a son lost in the war, but ignores the knowledge that some of his faulty equipment cost many lives. He's finally brought to his knees when he sees the bigger picture and realizes the dead men were "All My Sons."

You see, that's how I feel every day when I read the Homicide Report. They were "All My Sons."

Lord, we ask you to help us counter the ripple effect of violence in LA. Where there is anger, send peace, where there is sorrow, send joy. Where there is complacency, caring....

So Be It

Mother T