Sorry seems to be the hardest word

If you're anywhere near a newspaper, or a TV news report or the Internet, you know what happened yesterday in Arizona. A man opened fire at a supermarket in Tucson, where a congresswoman was meeting with her constituents. Six dead, about a dozen injured, including the congresswoman, Gabrielle Giffords, who was shot in the head.

Typing those words makes my fingers numb.

Being hunkered down in my home in southern California, I had never heard of Rep. Giffords before today. And now I may never forget her.

Apart from the details of the shooting, the shooter's possible motives and mental state, everyone is now lit up with talk about the "vitriolic political atmosphere" that has been growing on this country like mildew in my shower ever since we elected President Obama. Currently, I'm watching the array of fingers that are out and pointing, hoping that in time, some of the fingers might turn and face their owners.

I'm sure the gun shop who sold the gun will shrug and say, "He passed the tests. It's not our fault he used the gun to shoot a 9-year old girl."

The politicos who have used violent rhetoric to stir up their followers will say, "When I said we need to keep these people in our crosshairs, I never meant to hunt them down. I was just using the image to make a point."

Then everyone will agree that some people use guns safely and some people understand language correctly and no one can control these nutcases anyway, so why change things?

I'd like to suggest that we need to try. We need to step up to the plate, own our actions and our words and commit to making this country a safe place to be who you are and express yourself without fear of violence or reprisal. I'm saying this for all groups, all parties, everyone. It's time to get along.

So maybe it's time for people to say, "I'm sorry. Maybe I was misunderstood. Maybe we let someone slip through the cracks. Definitely, we should try harder." Perhaps the politicians who are using violent images in their speeches could offer us a couple of words that say, "I'm so sorry that this crazy person took my words literally. I'm going to change the way I say things from now on." And no, you can't stop unbalanced people from hanging around your group, but you can let them know they are not welcome if they bring a sword to the table; only olive branches are accepted. Stop feeding them the words that stoke their craziness.

It's a common fact that most people respond better to "I" statements than "you" statements. No one wants to hear, "You're wrong about x." Most people, in fact, will bristle and dig deeper in their side of the argument. But try saying, "That may be true, but I think this way about x." See how much better that is for everyone? You allow other people to have their beliefs while you express yours. The only thing you have to abandon is your desire to control someone else. Since we've already agreed that we have no control over crazy people, is it so hard to stop trying to control the rest of the population?

And perhaps gun purchases should also be dependent upon some proof of sanity. Just saying.

A political rant

By the time November 2nd rolls around, I'm hoping to have the will to vote. I know I'll have the desire to beat something – anything – with a baseball bat, just from listening to all of the ads.

I'm tired of the accusations and the exposés and the mudslinging by the spin doctors on all sides, so here's my two-cents, as a registered voter, to all the politicians out there: It's all about you, isn't it?

Last year, I was president of my son's choir booster club. We began the year in rough shape. Due to various reasons, we owed several thousand dollars, to both companies and parents. Even though it wasn't my credit score on the line, I felt the enormous weight of all the money we needed to raise – just to pay our debts off. I wasn't even certain if we'd raise enough to pay for what our kids needed this year.

I'm no financial wizard. I had no grand ideas for getting out of this mess. I only had two things going for me: 1) my honesty, and 2) my eternal optimism, both of which I hoped were contagious. For our first meeting, I explained our situation to the other parents and appealed to their sense of honor. We needed to make these debts right. And then I asked for their help.

The parents responded in ways bigger and better than I could have ever imagined. We paid our outstanding balances, we raised enough money to get music for the teacher and send the kids on a couple of small tours, and we ended the year with enough in the bank to get the next year started in the black.

I'm not telling this story to brag – I didn't do anything special. The parents did it all. I was just the cheerleader. I'd probably make a poor politician, because it'd be hard for me to tell everyone how I am going to solve the government's problems. All I could do is tell you, honestly, what the problems are, and appeal to you to help me solve them.

So it pisses me off to see all these politicians tell me how they're going to fix everything, because all I see are people who think they are going to ramrod their ideas down everyone's throats. Even if they're good ideas, do you have to be a bulldozer?

(An aside I must throw in here: in my state, and possibly in others, we've got former CEOs running for office. There's a lot of bragging about how much money they made for their company and shareholders. But what was it like for their employees? Did they offer good health plans, pay a living wage, treat them like human beings? Do they see the voters as shareholders or employees?)

A long time ago, a teacher described the difference between a manager and a leader. A manager pushes work onto their employees. A leader draws results from their employees.

I'm tired of being managed. Where are the leaders?

Okay, rant over. Hurry up, November 2nd. I want to get this thing over.