We live in a world of hate. There’s so much of it everywhere I turn. As a child, I used to cry watching movies about slaves and immigrants because they were treated as if they were less than dogs. As a young woman, I used to cry watching people treat people as less than dogs.
We live in a world where people will spare no expense making the puppy feel pampered while bargain shopping for the childcare workers responsible for their children. Government cuts funding to schools, creating overpopulated and under-staffed classrooms. No one has time for raising kids. No one has patience. Life is too expensive. Too many hours have to be worked to keep a job because if you can’t work them, there’s always someone else to put in your position, and then how will you buy all the stuff?
Children are being raised by television, video games, social media, and partipation trophies, creating a generation of self-centered adults believing life and society owe them something. And in case you have an overwhelming urge to be a nuisance to society, there’s always a post or a tweet with a built-in audience ready to egg you on.
I used to cry at the things people do to one another. I used to cry at the hatred of the human race. And then I had my precious, innocent boy. Now I cry at the thought that my influence on who he becomes is less than the influence of the words he hears at the park or grocery store and the images he sees on the news. I cry because my boy, my precious, innocent, curious, loving boy may one day be swayed by all the hatespeak and false idols and the only thing I can do is hope I am doing enough good in the world to sway him from the hate.