-2. My house is a wreck. My kids are spoiled little twerps. Speaking of spoiled, I have hunted the county for a Batman costume to no avail. I am not looking forward to the fit my son is going to throw if he doesn't get a Batman costume.
So suck it up, buy some black sweats and a gold Sharpie, cut up a big garbage bag for a cape, and tell the kid that the other kids are a**holes when they make fun of him. Or go buy a bobbin for the stupid sewing machine and turn the ruined black wool pants into a really, really, really cool cape that he can use for years and years and years.
Oh, that everyone could have my problems.
I can't find a solution to the Appalachian problem. Colonial economy, aging population, brain drain. I can't convince anyone from outside that the problem exists or that the problem is a problem instead of how things should be. I can't convince anyone from inside that the problem can have a solution if we can just come up with an implement one.
I don't want to fix the world. I just want to fix my little corner of it. Everyone seems to be waiting for some deus ex machina; meanwhile no one outside the problem knows what the problem is or even that there is a problem.
Bitter ironies.
"Someday I'll go home, and I know I'll right the wrongs, and these troubled times will follow me no more." -- Hazel Dickens, "The Green Rolling Hills of West Virginia"
OK. I'm as close to home as I'm going to get. NOW WHAT?????
_________________
"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"