A Grievous Loss

I don’t know if this is news outside of Los Angeles, but it’s a story that has a lot of meaning in our home.

A very nice 17 year old girl was killed Friday. She went to the same school members of my family go to, so it seems a little closer to us, even though I didn’t know Lily Burk. But one thing I have learned of late is when you read about something bad in the paper that something bad happened to someone, it really has. I know that seems obvious, but when I read bad things, sad, hard things I think I try to think of ways in which they don’t affect me. To try to keep me safe. Like, “Well, I wouldn’t have gone hang gliding in a rainstorm.”  Or, “Well maybe they got some insurance money for their house in the hurricane zone.”

Being a victim of the Madoff thing taught me that. And I certainly can’t detach from this story. She was only a few miles from where we live, it was broad daylight when some piece of shit abducted her to try to get some money.  Her body was found the next day.

She is an only child and the pain her parents are in is unimaginable. My sister said today she couldn’t sleep last night for thinking of their pain. Mark and I did sleep, but when we would wake they were the first the thing we thought of. It’s too scary, too sad.

How would one ever get past this? Really, why would one? A death is hard in of itself, but their child was murdered. A National Merit Scholar, she had the lead in the school play, she was somebody. There are no words, and I can’t help but personalize it. I can’t but think, “How do you keep your children safe?”  She was driving errands in what is reported to be the the third safest city in America (NYC and San Jose are ahead). She wasn’t a solider who died saving others. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

All that love and care her parents lavished on her. The joy she brought them… ah, I ‘m sorry I’m not funny today. Another day… but my heart is heavy for this family and terrified for my own.

What to Say

(Note: Not the original intro I had written. See below for ensuing sh*t storm.)

Okay, this was my attempt to do a twist on the vlog I did post miscarriage “What NOT to say” about hurtful things people said to me after that. This is what TO say because I found it was hard when people didn’t say anything after we found out we had been robbed and had to sell our house.

Frankly, this vlog was not as successful as the one I patterning it after. I think I tried to cram too much in. But the take-away for me to remember is: if someone’s misfortune is uncomfortable to you, imagine how it is for them.

Not that I’m always succesful at this… work in progress.

How Do You Sell Stuff When You Don’t Want to Be Murdered?

As part of my downsizing, I wanted to sell some furniture, a bed and a bedside table . I didn’t want it, but it wasn’t junk. I didn’t want to leave it on the sidewalk to be ferreted away in the night by bedless strangers. No, I thought it could garner a bit of cash. But how to sell?

Garage sale?  They are a lot of work; you have to wake up early, and my husband was cringing at the suggestion. Plus, it’s a bunch of strangers who can see your house, that you might be moving, etc. Charity drop? Well, I did just take a bunch of clothes and a bookcase to Goodwill, but again, I wanted a bit of cash for the bedroom stuff.

Which leaves Craigslist. I’ve bought and sold and given away for free on the site, but that was before two recent murders where it’s said that the victims met the people on Craigslist.  One of the people who were killed was George Weber in his apartment in Brooklyn. I used to work with George back in San Francisco at KGO radio.  He was a great guy. Very good to me. He was a night time talk host, and I was a lowly traffic reporter, but he involved me in bits. Once, he interviewed my mom on the radio because he couldn’t believe she really hated Mother’s Day as I had told him. Another time, my cousin asked if I could get his young daughter singing a Christmas song to be played on KGO. (She was in pageants at the time.) I thought , oh, yeah, right, it’s a news station and big one. But George did it. He played little Velvet’s song.

Craigslist is supposed to be a bulletin board for stuff. But a stranger comes to you, or you come to them. A security guy that I work with who use to be a county sheriff said he thinks “Craigslist is creepy.” Furthermore, he has his mail go to a PO box; he doesn’t ever give out his real address. Maybe that’s not so strange.

I’m sorry George came to such a terrible end that we live in a world where you question if you should sell a side table.