Boston

from a detailed Wikipedia article

Like the time I was watching the movie Juno when I found out my teenaged daughter, a freshman living away at college, was pregnant, I was watching the early Red Sox game on Patriot's Day and reading the People  story on the Newton families the day of the Boston Marathon bombings.  The photos in People are incredible, and the families very brave--they tell a story all by themselves. And reading about one horrible event while another happens makes you draw connections quickly.  In this case, I've been wondering all week:

Why do men kill women and children?

Because, as it turns out, the bombers were young men, again, and the victims who died last Monday were another 1 child and 2 women. The total, in Newtown, was 6 women and 20 children. And while violence towards women and children within families is common, these were all strangers, and targeting women and children is anathema of what we think of as our moral code.

Michael Kimmel

There was an article on cnn.com in December, "Masculinity, mental illness and guns: A lethal equation?" by Michael Kimmel that did a good job, I thought, describing the dynamics in the Newtown case, and possibly Boston, I'm not sure yet. It's not specific to the "women and children" question, but then again, in Boston there were many men injured, Sean Collier was killed, and the attackers were aiming indiscriminately for not just women and children, but innocents in general.

Kimmel is a sociologist at SUNY-Stony Brook, and yes, a bit of a liberal. He co-wrote a funny book called The Men's Guide To Feminism, which breaks down the concepts like a football playbook, but he's also writing a book on Angry White Men about white supremacists, and has described the "bro" world of drinking, video games, hookups and hanging out with each other in a book called Guyland. You may disagree with some of his points, and his research methods are open to critique, but he's onto something. While it may be a problem for some that adolescence has extended far into a young man's twenties with its culture of playful male bonding, including me, as I put in this blog, at least any harm done is only to themselves, and their relationships. The problem of disconnected men, without such close ties is far worse.

Because alienated men with murderous intent cause the majority of violent havoc in our world.

For many of us, the Newtown murders will leave a lasting bitterness and grief in our lives even if we didn't know anyone personally who went to school or worked or responded there.  Though they're national news, they are local for us in this state, and it was our school safety and our mental health systems that will be examined as a result, our communities devastated, our families and first responders traumatized, and later testifying with passion in the state house or Capitol for whatever state laws we decide need to changed or budgets shored up.  The President's initiative has already started, with much acrimony and, so far, defeat.  I suspect, eventually, some good will come out of it, but nothing will ever outweigh the horror, or the pain, or the loss.

When I lived in Rhode Island, there was a crime that led to national changes in day care release policies, after the killer of the Brendel family in Barrington in 1991 had taken the father's license and gone to pick up the daughter at the Y after school program.  After that, policies changed everywhere on release lists and photo ID's.  I think countless children have been safer as a result. I like it when I get the third degree when I pick up my granddaughter at Head Start. I think that will eventually happen out of the Newtown tragedy too, in some way we can't yet foresee.  I also know I've never really gotten over the Brendel family murders, that I kind of carry it with me, like I do the San Diego murders I referenced in my blog in December.  We all have our seminal events good and bad events that shape our psyche.  These are some of mine, the rough stuff, and now Newtown and Boston.

from the Boston Marathon site

But while the push from Newtown has been for limits on high-capacity gun clips, background checks, mental health services and school security, the reaction in Boston has been far more oriented towards pride (this is the link to the David Ortiz comments before Sunday's game). bravery, and resilience, and appreciation for the law enforcement and medical personnel, and good samaritans, who worked together to save lives. The President was downright defiant, saying we refuse to be terrorized, a far cry from his grief-stricken reaction to Newtown, which he has described as the worst day of his Presidency.

from New York Daily News

Because while Newtown was over in five minutes, the Boston manhunt went on for four full days. People pulled together. The bad guys were ultimately defeated. And they came from another country, so the analysis is focusing on national security (this week, in regards to the immigration bill) rather than our internal means of identifying and helping young American men with violent fantasy lives that might spill over into reality.

I hope it helps.

Love, Lisa

Kisses

Cheezburger.com

I have three sons who kiss me a few times a week, usually on their way out the door. It's instant communication from them: I'm fine, I love you, we're good, I'll be safe. Billy kisses me good-night. My fourth son doesn't ever kiss me, and withdraws from my touch. His communication says what you'd expect. He's never happy with me. He's rarely happy at all.

I have two daughters who kiss me a few times a week. It's instant communication from them too, but different. Usually: I feel lousy, thanks for listening. Or, alternately, thanks for the gas money, moving my laundry or making my favorite meal. They need something, I take care of it and they're expressing gratitude. They also say thanks, but this makes it genuine, sealing the deal with a kiss. I have a third daughter who kisses me throughout the day--when she leaves for middle school, when I look sad, when she goes to bed. I know someday she'll slow the pace to the "few times a week" but I'm loving the constant contact now. When she's mad at me, and cries, she refuses to kiss me. It stings, but I have to laugh a little too. Her pout is just so cute.

My fourth daughter is the conundrum. She's crafty. She doles out her kisses, her hugs, her occasional knee pats, like the rare relics they are. I touch her and kiss all my kids plenty, but of course that doesn't count. She turns so I kiss her hair, stills under my hug, gives me a stiff little pat on the back, consolation, like she's saying "Not this time, Mom, but soon. You're getting closer. Soon you'll deserve an actual kiss." And I wait for them like they're tax return checks. Every day I think one might come. If she edges closer, her face softens, I often ruin the moment and reach for her. She hesitates. Backs away. The startled mustang runs for the hills.

Neurolove.me

Yesterday, I got a kiss. It was mostly the result of my handing over my debit card for the first time ever. She'd run hard at her track meet. She was going to Panera with friends, a new phenomena over the past couple months as these Connecticut girls work their way through a six month waiting period between permit and license, then another six month waiting period before they drive with unrelated teenagers. I only had six bucks. I offered it. She looked worried. Not enough for a drink. I handed over the faded  Credit Union permit to live in relative comfort. She nodded, content, then grabbed my phone and asked for the PIN so she could text it to herself. I gave it to her without a moment's hesitation. I could feel it coming. I didn't reach. And there is was--my kissing kids aim for my lips and she bussed my cheek but her kiss was warm, loving, more than just a brush-by. When we feel safe and secure our kisses are soft. Hers was mush. Her instant communication was a combination of my sons and daughters: it was a thank you, an I love you, and a we're good. Totally worth sitting on cold bleachers for two hours waiting for her two-minute race.

As I left the track, I carried my granddaughter, who's been sick on-and-off for two weeks and

EverydayFamily.com 

spent an evening with her mother and me in the Yale Children's Hospital this week. She has a belly ache, is the gist of it, and though we offer juice and toast and bananas and everything else supposed to help, all she really wants is to be held. At 3-1/2, this isn't easy. She comes up to my own belly when she's standing. But she's adamant: hold me, hold me, please. If I'm writing, she climbs up next to my hip, under one arm, and I'm reduced to mouse-use only. If she's tired, it's a full-body monkey-hug, splayed across my chest. On the walk up the big high school hill I was trying for a hip hold but she wanted my chest. I carried her in my arms as long as I could, but that only got us half-way up. Can you walk? No. Hip? No. Back? Yeah. So we made it to the car. Since I was alone, if she'd said no, I would have had to rest and then carry again. Nothing else would do. It was the only way her belly didn't hurt. Because touch heals.

Article here

Yes, I'm reading a new issue of Psychology Today. I have a subscription now.
This won't be the last you hear of it. Because it's interesting--they cover every part of touch in the cover article from basketball teammates who communicate on the court with slaps, hugs and shoulder tags to workplace touch, touch from strangers, different cultures, sex--and the two findings that stick with me the most are these:

1. Touching another person, to comfort them (when they are in distress) or to relax them (say, in massage) has the same emotional and physiological benefits for both people. So, no more feeling guilty for asking for a back rub. And, maybe, my hesitant daughter felt as good about the First Kiss she gave me in 2013 as I did. Maybe enough to pony up again before her summer birthday. Maybe when I take her to visit a couple of colleges. Maybe if I let her drive.

2.  Couples who stay together touch each other almost equally. This isn't to say one partner isn't

Etsy.com

the usual starter. One usually is--my husband's much more affectionate than me, and a better kisser. But when they do, the other reciprocates, giving them each a point on the touch scoreboard--I reciprocate in force. When there is no even exchange of physical touch and affection, or a serious imbalance, the relationship is usually unhappy. Chances are it won't last. We humans can live with a lot of deprivation but unless we're hard-wired to avoid touch (in case we typically don't have lovers), being deprived of touch when it's free and easy and constantly available isn't something we can bear. Even deployed soldiers, long-distance relationships, will go to Skype, and put hands on screen. Almost feel the other person. Close enough. At least we're trying. The number one way to have a good day, it's been proven, is to kiss and say I love you to someone you live with at the start of the day. Either give or receive. The benefits go both ways.  If you're alone, and I know this sounds silly, but say it to yourself. Kiss you palm. Massage your hand. Self-touch has the same connecting, soothing power as touch with others.

I kiss my parents--you guessed it--a few times a week, when I see them, when we part. I talk less than I used to, but the touch hasn't changed. I rub their upper arm. They pat my hand. I'm sure their touching me started in utero, with the limbs that poked out my mother's belly that they tickled and poked back. My touching them started at birth, and I've rarely gone more than a week or two without seeing them, even when I lived in Rhode Island. I'm in withdrawal, a little bit. My mom's been away for a while. It's the whole package--the way she looks at me, her smile, her kiss, her smell, her soft hair. There's nothing like it, not quite. It's love incarnate. I miss talking to her, yes, but I miss her touch more.

Two more days and I'll get my fix. :)

Love, Lisa