Books & Graves: Little Women

A few weeks ago my little family found our way to Author's Ridge at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord, Massachusetts - the grave sight of the Alcott, Hawthorne, and Emerson families as well as Thoreau.   Just the name of the place gives me goosebumps.  So many incredible individuals buried all in one place.

Ok heart, stop pounding. 

This will be the first of several posts about this incredible place.  I'm starting with a childhood hero, Louisa May Alcott.

As we found our way to the cemetery, we drove by Louisa May Alcott's Orchard House and memories began pouring in.  I'm not from the Boston area and have yet to make my way into the house.  Alcott's vision of the importance of family and being an awkward outsider resonates with me today.   For those who don't know, Little Women is a coming of age tale of four sisters who live a genteel life in the mid-1800s.

My first memory was of sitting in the local library in the town were I lived as a child.  (Guys.  I grew up in a town so small that the library doesn't even have a website!  Here is their facebook page if you want to see one of the most beautiful buildings that ever existed:  https://www.facebook.com/FriendsoftheAdamsFreeLibrary ) It was after school one day, when I was maybe 9 or 10.   I was sitting in the children's section in one of the old wooden chairs that creaked softly as we sat down, as if saying, "Ohhhhh good! You're here!" with a friend.  She read Little Men and I read Little Women.  These were small board books, not the actual novels.  We loved them.  I remember sitting in that library in my squeaky chair smelling the smell of old books sitting with my sweet friend and reminiscing about Jo March and her sisters.  Their relationships with each other were so kind and loving - and the passion they had for family makes me teary today.  Even though each was so different - Meg is the "perfect little woman", Jo is a strong-willed individual, Beth is kind and gentle, and Amy is the vain and self-centered baby - they were each other's closest confidents and friends. 

Later, when I was in middle school, I read the novel itself.  Later that year, the movie - staring Clair Danes - came out.  I was eleven.  I was obsessed.  I related to the story of Jo even more now.  She had a strong willed attitude in a time when women were expected to be demur  - She was pretty bad ass if you asked me.  Her strength in believing in who she was even though others around called her a "boy" (albeit, lovingly) was empowering to an awkward, book loving, red haired, eleven-year-old with crooked teeth and a fast smile.  Jo was my hero.

Finally, high school.  In my junior year of high school I took an advanced writing course and an acting course, both with the same teacher.  His name was Mr. Roberts and I will never forget him.  Mr. Roberts was a plump, sassy soul and taught from his desk.  He rarely moved around, which in most cases, I would say might make him a terrible teacher.  Contrary.  He was one of the best teachers I have had yet.  I was excruciatingly shy in high school (I know you don't believe me.  It's true.  One year we all had to chose nicknames for each other and I was named, "She who does not speak."  Truth.) Mr. Roberts helped me learn that through writing I could be brave.  I learned to express myself in journals, studied poetry, and, back to the point of this post: I learned that there is more to writing than just what is written down. In Mr. Roberts class we learned about the transcendentalist movement, of which LMA was a part. Her works were more than just stories written for people to read.  In order for us to understand a piece of literature, we had to understand the context of the author's life.  Transcendentalists fundamentally believed that humans and nature are inherently good.  It was essential that individuals be self-reliant and independent, and that we do not simply follow doctrine and rules for the sake of order.  We had to become our own selves so that we could best contribute to "the community."  I realized then that Jo March wasn't simply an awkward teenager who didn't "fit it" with her sisters and peers.  She was trying to be her own person, and by doing so, she would become a successful career person and happy in her marriage - a contributing member of her community, and also very happy.  Jo's life, of course, doesn't simply have a happy ending because that's not have life is, really, but she is a good person trying to do good things.  Red-headed, crooked tooth, book nerd, shy me didn't have to play sports or wear name brand clothes.  I started spending time with people I met in French Club.  I even tried track (and fell. a lot.  but also laughed.  a lot.)   Jo March is my spirit animal.

So, visiting the grave of the creator of one of my first literary role models was an experience I will always place on list of "Woah.  I did that." moments.  And, I had my brave, bright, friendly little girl, L-Bear, with me.  She laughed and waved at strangers wandering by.  I felt so proud to be her mommy.  The pile of pens in front of Alcott's grave reminded me that, although sometimes we very very alone and scared and awkward, we are all simply trying to "be".  Trying to be ourselves.  Trying to be part of this community.  Trying to be an individual.  So, write.  Read.  Shave your head.  Dress like a man (or a lady).  Do whatever it is that makes you feel like you.  Make Louisa proud.  

Literary Travels

Recently, I was fortunate enough to find myself at a new place of employment.  I'm thrilled - I am now working as the fundraising and development person for a (very) small, local charity whose mission is to preserve the culture and history of the county in which I live. I will be spending my days cultivating donors, assisting with event planning, and sustaining relationships with the board and corporate donors.  Many of you know I live in Salem, Massachusetts - home of the Salem Witch Trials in 1692.  I didn't grow up here, but was drawn to the city because of its incredible history and its attitude about using that history to prevent such a horrific event from happening again. As I've spent more time here, I have also grown to know that Salem has a great maritime history. Museums all over town, and even our city logo portray this, and it's a great way to help the city become better known for something positive.

Since starting my new job, what I recently began thinking more about is the area's literary history.  I suppose it's well known that Thoreau's Walden Pond is nearby.  And that Nathaniel Hawthorne was born right here in Salem.

If you've been reading my few posts in the last year, you may know I bought a new house, had a baby, and got a new job.  I haven't had much time for blogging!  Now that things are settling down and no giant life changes are knowingly in my immediate future, I'm introducing a new blog segment.  We will be traveling around New England visiting the homes & graves of some of the famous authors in the area.  My hope is to involve my family a bit in my literary adventures.  My plan is to chose a New England author, read his or her book(s) - hopefully it's on my fantasy list! - visit the grave or homesite to take some pictures, then blog about the experience.  

To get started, I picked up Carved in Stone at my local book store, Wicked Good Books. I've always had a curiosity about gravesyards and the people buried there.  I'm excited to include my sweet baby and my love in this reading adventure, and I hope to post more frequently.  




*These images are not mine and I claim no ownership or rights to them. I googled and found two awesome shots of two incredible graveyards in Salem.  The B&W is an image of Broad Street Cemetary - which was in the backyard of the first apartment I had in Salem.  The second is Old Burial Point, which is where Nathaniel Hawthorne's infamous Grandfather Judge is buried. 

Monster High

About a year ago, while I was driving to work, I heard a radio spot about new dolls for girls.  These new dolls were called, "Monster High" dolls and were geared toward girls who might see themselves on a more "alternative" spectrum than their Barbie loving friends.  The dolls are dressed in various monster attire - a werewolf, a vampire, a witch.  

My kind of dolls. 

I couldn't wait to get home and look up these new, alternative dolls geared toward... Well... Toward young me.  A doll that wasn't really about fashion or dating?  A monster doll that could go on adventures traveling through realms or even through time?  Sign me up! 

The marketing manager at Mattel (manufacturer of the dolls), Cathy Cline, was interviewed for the radio spot: 

*The message about the brand is really to celebrate your own freaky flaws, especially as bullying has become such a hot topic.*

These dolls are being marketing in a way that says, "I stand out. It's OK that I am different.  

One doll, the vampire, is VEGAN.  A girl after my own heart. 

I got home and Googled. 

What a disappointment. 

Have you seen these "monsters"?  Let me describe them to you: They are anorexic looking "girls" in (pardon) stripper attire:  Mini-skirts, knee high boots, giant heads, knees that can't carry their "weight" and buckle as the doll "walks", giant (pardon) hooker lips, and more eyeshadow than, well, Barbie. 

So much for being alternative.  

Imagine yourself at your favorite big box store.  Imagine yourself in the toy aisles.  Now, imagine you need a gift for a friend's daughter's birthday.  How do you know what to buy?  You go to the aisle coded with pink princesses, hair & make-up supplies, baby dolls, cooking equipment.  Where are the science toys?  The carpentry toys?  The sports equipment?  Oh, those are in the boys' section.  

And now, you can feed into your insecure, non-pink liking, bullied child's issues by purchasing her a doll "like her" - buckled knees, big hair, and stripper boots at no extra charge.  

Recently, I picked up a book called "Redefining Girly".  My Huz gave it to me for my birthday.  The author, Melissa Atkins Wardy, takes the modern concept of "girly" (i.e., pink, sexualized, weak, princess) and calls it out as a marketing tactic helping toy manufacturers segment toys so that each family must have one for each "gender" specific item for the girls and one for the boys, thereby selling twice as many toys.  Wardy makes a point to emphasize that there is absolutely nothing wrong with wearing pink/liking princesses/whatever.  She wishes there were more of a selection, and I have to agree with her, especially when it comes to dolls like these. 

Marketers say it is innate that girls like these "pink" ways, and that they are just selling what girls want.  I don't think so. 

I'm frustrated that we segregate toys into "gender specific" categories. I'm angry that these "monsters" at sexualized versions of the creatures we all know.  I don't understand why girls have to decide between Barbie with her heels, a vampire dool in knee highs, or "boy" toys.  

What do you think?  Am I overreacting? 

http://www.npr.org/blogs/monkeysee/2013/07/17/202417282/KIDS-GOTH-BARBIE

Fairest of Them All

I have a vivid memory of playing with my sister in our "sky blue pink" bedroom with a bunk bed:  I, being the ever-bossy older sister, turned to her and said, "I am the princess.  You have to do what I say."   She, being the ever-clever younger sister, said, "I am the queen.  You have to do what I say." 

I was flabbergasted. 

I could not fathom anyone being more powerful than a princess.  How could that possibly happen?  She was right.  She secured her position as the queen and we proceeded in our attempts to climb though our full-length mirror, mimicking as much as possible Alice as she climbed through her famous looking glass. 

I was reminded of this memory this past Monday when I took L-Bear to a check-up.  When the nurse came in to weigh & measure my dark haired, bright green eyed, smiling baby, she smiled and stated, "She looks like Snow White!"  I loved this.  For me to have a classic storybook character look alike for a daughter is so perfect.  

Later, after the doctor came in to chat about introducing solids, the nurse was back.  This time L-Bear needed to get three shots. If you are a parent, you know this is a miserable experience. Each time L gets a shot, she looks up at me while I hold her and makes THAT sad face that says, "Why are you doing this to me!?" then cries.  It's awful.  Well, this time, the usual face was presented.  She looked up at me.  Whimpered a little.  I reminded her that I was proud of her for being brave.  Then, something surprising happened:  L-Bear smiled at the nurse. It was as if she was thinking, "I know this hurts, but I am brave and I understand."  

The nurse paused, then smiled at me and said, "Pretty and brave.  Little Snow White."  

I was so proud. 

Because of the Disney version of this fairy tale, I think we sometimes forget earlier versions.  Snow White's life was so hard.  Her mother died.  Her father's new wife hated her.  A hunter tried to kill her. But, after using her wits to convince the hunter to let her live, instead of feeling sorry for herself, she found a new life with people who cared about her.  She created a happy existence for herself - became one with the natural world around her.  

I know what you're thinking - true love's first kiss saved Snow White after she, naively, ate a poisoned apple given to her by a disguised evil queen.  Do you really want L-Bear to grow up as a damsel in distress, waiting for a Prince?

You are mistaken, my friend. 

In Grimm's version, based on oral tales of the centuries, there is a prince. And there is an apple.  And the sweet trusting Snow White was tricked.   True Love's first kiss didn't save Snow White, though.  The Prince and his fellow travelers came upon Snow White in her glass coffin, and seeing how beautiful she was, decided to bring her back to his home for a proper burial.  In doing so, the coffin was dropped, the apple was dislodged, and Snow White awoke, ever grateful.  

The Evil Queen, you ask?  She, still "green with envy", attended Snow White's wedding.  While there, "iron slippers had already been put upon the fire, and they were brought in with tongs, and set before her. Then she was forced to put on the red-hot shoes, and dance until she dropped down dead." 

Yup.  Good wins again.  Snow White's ability to believe in the goodwill of human-kind enabled her to thrive, even in the worst of situations.  Her ability to trust and to continue living with a heart full of love and hope, enabled her to push through her darkest days, and find true happiness.  

So, when I think back to these early days on L-Bear's life,  I will always remember her as my sweet, brave Snow White.  Smiling through hard times, knowing sometimes life is hard, but always remembering to keep love and hope at the forefront of her being.  

Read Instead?

As you know, I'm all about reading.  I love an interesting fiction story and I love reading biographies about my "heroes" (more on that next week).  One aspect of reading I sometimes struggle with is the "Read Instead" concept.   For a long time, I didn't have cable.  I used my computer to catch up on current events and I had a roommate who worked at Blockbuster so we always had movies around to watch should the feeling strike us.   When I moved in with my Huz in 2007, I "upgraded" and we have had cable since.  Now I have shows that I greatly enjoy, and often they fit into the same genres as my favorite books - "documentaries" about mermaids, weekly series about fairy tale characters who live in modern Maine, and quirky movies and shows with sci-fi themes.   What I wanted to talk with you about today is the idea that - aside from the terribly annoying commercials that always seem to be never ending - I think I've decided that maybe television isn't so bad.  

Bear with me.

This change of heart really stems from the availability of commercial free Netflix and other streaming availability.   I hope we continue down this avenue and that our "shows" become more widely distributed without the commercial breaks.  It seems our lives are constantly more and more commercialized and I can't help but wonder if we will finally reach a point where we all say "STOP.  NO MORE!".  I really think we will, and I think it will be soon.  Personally, I've stopped watching certain shows because of annoyingly obvious product placement.  Perhaps I'm not the audience most commercials strive to entertain, anyway, because I buy most of my clothes from consignment stores and find my music on Spotify and Pandora (and often mute the commercials)... but it is easy for me to block out those screaming announcers who want me to purchase whatever it is they think I must have. 

You may be thinking - "But all of those Netflix shows are funded by product placement!".  I know, I know... but it feels better to be marketed to in a way that let's me decide I want to be more like Claire Underwood and her cool, modern, sense of style and well-organized office so I might as well buy an Apple computer!    Oh wait, I don't want to be like Claire... I do still love my Macbook, though.  I digress.

So, back to this "Read Instead" phenomenon.  Let's forget commercials for a minute.  Let's pretend they don't exist, and forget that the reason people make television shows is to make money.  Instead, let's think about why we enjoy television: We like to escape from our stressful lives for a little while.  We like to learn about ideas or concepts completely unknown to us.  

Those are the same reasons I read books.  

I'm not saying we should all stop reading.  I'm not saying that television should replace my beloved favorites - Poe, Gaiman, Barrie, Martin.  What I hope to convey is that maybe we can supplement our reading habits with other opportunities.  We can use television to learn and to take a break for a while.  

So, maybe instead of "Read Instead", we should really "Read" (at all) and "Watch Sometimes". 

*All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost...*

As many of you know, my life has changed dramatically in the last year.  I became a mommy, we moved to our first single family home (with a yard!), I bought a new (to me) car, and (soon) my job is moving out of state.  Last January when I realized all of these life events were going to happen in the next year and a half, I panicked.  Who wouldn't?  New home, new family member, new commute, new job?  Eek.  

Over the course of the year, though, we have been immensely fortunate.  We have the most incredible network of friends, family, and acquaintances.  Without all of the love and support that has coming pouring in over the last year, I  would still be in that state of panic.  Although things aren't totally settled yet (my job change will occur over the spring and summer), I think things are starting to feel more normal.  Still, sometimes I cannot believe how different my life is this December from last.  A few days ago I was taking my dogs for a quick stroll trough our new neighborhood while the baby napped, and felt a little like a ghost watching my own life.  Whose house is this?  Do I really live on this quiet deadend street?  Is this incredible little baby, who I love more than I ever could have imagined loving anyone, really mine to keep forever?  

Then, this morning JRR Tolkein's often quoted poem popped into my mind: "All that is gold does not glitter..." YES.  This should be tattooed on my forehead.  My life has been an incredible series of amazing accidents.  Many of my most happy events were accidental occurrences.  Some examples:  finding Salem, meeting my husband, my current employment.  Many times, though, events immediately preceding these occurrences, appear to have negativity associated with them.  I wouldn't have found MG if it weren't for a terrible breakup a few weeks earlier, I wouldn't have found my job if I didn't leave my preschool classroom in tears one day... You see?  These "gold" events did not immediately "glitter".  

The next line of this poem also describes my life this year.  Have you seen the movie "Wanderlust"? You know, the one about a chick who can't decide what to do with her life?  Should she pitch a movie to HBO? Maybe a jewelry maker? A children book illustrator? An ice-cream store owner? 

Yes.  That's me.  Exactly.  I've talked about owning a cupcake store, opening a book store, being a preschool teacher, teaching high school English, running an animal non-profit, getting another office job because it pays the bills...  My hobbies are endless - I'm not a pro at any of them, but every so often I like to knit, play guitar, paint with water colors, dance... I'm an endless wanderer.  And I love that.  So, with this next year, I'm going to continue being that endless wanderer, and remember that I'm not lost.  The gold will glitter when it's time, and maybe I will find my way eventually.  But, if I don't, that's ok, too, because I have all of you.  Thank you for all of your kindness and support this year.

Cheers to an amazing 2013, and hopes for an even better 2014.

Salem's Lot by Stephen King

Don't hate me.

I am not a Stephen King fan.  

I have read exactly 1.5 of his books and hated them both.   The first was Gerald's Game upon recommendation of my husband, back when he was just a boyfriend - almost ten years ago.  The second was Salem's Lot - a recent recommendation for a good October read.

I didn't finish Salem's Lot even though several of you said, "It's a great book!"and "Robyn! It's about VAMPIRES! You love vampire books!" ... (dot, dot, dot...).

King's stories are horror stories, as everyone knows, but the monsters in the stories aren't what is actually scary.  What is actually scary is how hateful and despicable everyone is in his books.  His characters make me sick to my stomach.  The people in his books aren't any better than the monsters he creates.  They should know better, but their actions prove they are terrible human beings. 

As I sit here staring out my office window, looking at the leaves falling from the trees that hover over my backyard, I keep thinking about the recent news about a teacher who was murdered by one of her students.  Why would I want to read a book about hateful people who purposefully hurt each other when I see enough of it in real life?  My quiet little city is impacted enough by murders and hatred (um, Salem Witch Trials anyone?).  Honestly, I don't want to read a book about people with no hope, with no compassion, with no... dreams.  

So, as much as I respect King for being a beloved horror writer, and as much as I love that he uses New England as the back drop for his books... and as much as I loved the movie Carrie as a teenager... I've given up on his books.  

"CAPTURED!!! The hunt is over. The search is done. The terror is over. And justice has won. Suspect in custody,"

I sat here with every intention of writing something meaningful about the recent Marathon Bombings, and for some reason every time I look at the screen I go blank.  I have nothing left to say that hasn't already been said.  Am I angry?  Yes.  Was I scared?  Hell yes.  Do I feel sad that this 19 year old kid ruined his life by becoming one of the most hated men in modern America?  Yes.  

I don't want to get into discussions with each of you about why the actions of these two young men should or shouldn't impact how we feel about "those people..."

I don't want to argue about nationalism and patriotism and its importance or unimportance in our schools and homes...

I definitely don't want to talk about how some people feel this child - 19 is a child - should have been left to die a horrific lonely death in a boat in some suburban back-yard and how stupid I think that is.

I just want to heal.

I want to wake up tomorrow and not remember that last week I left work early twice frightened (once because of the bombing and once because down the street the courthouse was evacuated for a bomb scare).

I want to be sure to teach my little baby who isn't born yet that there is more meaning to showing love in times of stress and fear than hatred.

I want all of us who came together to show respect for the first responders to stay together and not separate ourselves over politics or religion or why the grass is green.

You might be asking yourself, "What does this have to do with fiction?"  Everything.

In so many of the books we read it is easy to tell who are the "good" guys and who are the "bad" guys... There is a protagonist and an antagonist.   Sometimes the protagonist wins, sometimes the antagonist does and we hate him all the more.  Real life isn't that simple.

We are all "good" and we are all "evil".  It's easy to say "they" are bad people and "we" are the good ones, but what does that mean really?  We don't know yet why this young man thought he was making a good decision to bomb our city, and we may never know if he dies in the hospital or if he simply doesn't wish to tell investigators.   In his eyes, it is likely that he sees the American public is the "bad" guys and his family (and whoever else was helping him...) as the "good" guys.   Instead of separating ourselves into categories we should find ways of coming together and learning from each other.  If someone felt less like an outsider, perhaps he would be less inclined to bomb a busy city street.

This month my book club chose V for Vendetta as a comic book to read.  Of course this decision was made before this horrible tragedy, but I am having a difficult time reading it.   For those unfamiliar, the story is about a person in disguise who is frustrated with his overpowering government who hurts its people.  He takes action by bombing the parliament building and killing the evil leaders.  Our main character, "V", is a "good" guy taking action to make the world a better place.  Each time I sit down to read I get distracted by the Marathon Bomber and how he probably honestly thought he was the "good" guy.  It makes me feel sick.

That's all for now on this I suppose.  Our lives will never be the same, but I hope we make choices that continue to show the rest of the world what a compassionate nation we are instead of continuing down the lines of hatred.

#bostonstrong
#bostonproud

Newtown

Today in church we sang, "It Came Upon a Midnight Clearing" in honor of all the angels who were brutally murdered last Friday.   This song, written by a man who was distraught about a recent American war with Mexico, describes a group of angels singing.  He also describes how we people do not take the time to slow down and listen - we are so caught up in war, hate, (etc.), that we don't take the time to listen to the angels singing.

How appropriate, right?

A mentally ill man with access to three semi-automatic weapons takes those weapons into an elementary school and kills twenty angels.

And yet, most of what we hear in the media (and from our acquaintances on Facebook) is about whose fault this is.  Is it the gun makers?  The government?  The mental health community?  I have many strong opinions on this matter, but this blog is about something a little different than just that.

Our modern society is far removed from nature.   We hardly take time outside to enjoy the trees and dirt.  We spend a majority of our days attached to electronic devices "being social" or working.   NPR recently reported that lobsters are over-populating certain areas causing them to begin to attack their young through cannibalism.   Studies have also recently shown that praying mantises are actually only cannibalistic in laboratories, and not in natural settings.   I think we sometimes forget that we are actually animals - we have a "god" complex because of our past abilities to overcome every single other species on our Earth, and we substitue natural interaction with electronic obsession.  I can't help but think that these murders are some sort of self-mutilation, just like these other animals have expressed in stressful environments.  Our obsession with being so important, so much better than all other creatures on our planet, has caused us to forget that, sometimes, community, friendship, love, and compassion are the most important things we need.

Because I feel this way, I can't help but think about so many "what ifs."  What if that young man's inner-circle loved him more.  What if that young man expressed his frustration for life through discussions with friends or even a counsellor.  What if our ability to become so important through the existence of guns was not a top priority for so many people in our country and this young man couldn't get his hands on a semi-automatic weapon.  What if.

I also can't help but think of all of the fairy tales I read as a little girl.  Stay away from wolves.  Witches who live in candy houses are dangerous.  Don't have too many children because you'll have to live in a shoe and won't know what to do.   Whatever happened to our societal lessons?  Is our world really so interconnected that we don't need lessons like these anymore?  Do we really have to teach our children that going to school isn't safe because a many might show up one day with a semi-automatic weapon and kill you?  No.  The answer is "no."  We need to come back to being a community, a society who cares for one another.
 
Hopefully you don't read this and think I'm just another someone trying to come up with some reason for this having happened, someone trying to rationalize a terrible situation   I hope your read this and it causes you to stop debating the Second Amendment for a minute and call a friend for a cup of coffee.  Or, I hope you read this and call your mom to see how her day is going.  Or, I hope you read this and snuggle with your child or your dog or cat just a little longer than normal.

Please stop fighting with each other for a few minutes and think about what is really, really right.

"Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;
O hush the noise, ye men of strife
And hear the angels sing."

Batman Tragedy.

Tragedy.

News corporations across the world are reporting terrible news today.  A deranged man, dressed in costume, murdered at least twelve people at a midnight showing of one of my favorite series, Batman.    I can not believe this happened.  The reports say he was a normal, quiet Ph D student and that he was "easy going."  Why, then, did he bust into a movie theatre late at night killing people?  

We will probably never really know.

Some calls for ending the use of video games and violent movies have started to become prevalent on social media and in the news.  It is unfortunate that this is the case; of course video games are too violent and I make a point to not play certain games, and I refuse to watch movies that are extraordinarily violent.  That said, Batman's whole "M.O." is that he is a hero in disguise.   When he was a child, his parents were murdered in front of him by criminals, causing him to pledge to protect those who can not help themselves.   He was a superhero who fought terrorism and fear.  His government is corrupt, his city is under siege.  Even with the temptations of his wealthy lifestyle, all he wishes to do is make his small world a better place for those around him.  He gives up love and marriage, he gives up his sleep and risks his life.   He often does not kill those evil-doers around him, out of compassion.  Does that make him weak? Or even more so a hero?

The criminals in the Batman series are hyperboles of real criminals in our lives, and are often conflicted in their deeds.  Take Poison Ivy, as an example; she is my favorite Batman villain.  As an environmentalist, she fights for plants and animals in her life; she believes in her cause so greatly, she goes to such great lengths that she becomes an eco-terrorist.   Totally conflicted.  

Let's not blame Batman for this one.

Let's blame our socially accepted purchase of guns by any individual without education about their use, or training for their use (i.e., don't shoot your friends and neighbors).  Let's blame the man who completed the murders.  Let's blame our hatred for those things that are different.  Let's blame society for not helping a man who one day wakes up and decides to kill many innocent people.

Let's blame... something other than a caped crusader who wants to make his world a better place.

My thoughts are with the murderer's family, and the families of those who were murdered or hurt.   In the words of the wonderful George Takei, "... As a community of dreamers, we mourn this terrible tragedy and this senseless taking of innocent life."