Gun Violence in the Twin Cities out of control; Politicians and local leaders want more meetings…#fail

By Don Allen

Two people dies yesterday from gunshot wounds suffered over the weekend. The city is in chaos. Local leaders want to have more meetings to talk about the senseless violence and untimely deaths of people who in some cases will never have the opportunity to be a father or mother; or see the evolution of life unfold before their eyes.

More meetings. A friend of mine, author Tim Wise said, “Conversations hardly ever result in actions.” There are some who want to study the black animals in the Twin Cities who kill by weapon. Some leaders abandoned facts and rationale thinking in order to start Soul Patrols. A soul-patrol to address youth death and violence in the Twin Cities? How about a patrol to address youth opportunity? Nobody thinks like than anymore.

Yesterday a huge fight broke out at a church in north Minneapolis during a funeral. Knives, police and the mortician confused on how a day of death people could fight in the street.

Politicians who are born to believe in war have started a war on young, unemployed and poor youth, who search for something that cannot just appear out of thin air.  

Maybe if these kids had a job?

Maybe if these kids had a better education?

Maybe if these kid’s parents were able to show them what a hard days work and the payment looks like? Nobody thinks like that anymore.

That’s what cracks me up.

Tautology: Happy

Dedicated to my wife and sons.

The boys; my boys.

You find me happy; a condition that lives with me, happy to be alive, happy to breath, happy to have two boys (sons), who are happy and a wife that calls me her “honey-doo.” Life is good when it’s happy; happy is good when it’s a part of your life.

Listening carefully, I hear the voice of my mother; the voices of my father; the voice of my uncles; the voice of people I do not know who need something I do not have, but voices calling that make it apparent I can get what the voices need. Listening, I hear the voices of the mothers and their children on the bus stops on a hot summer day or a cold winter night asking why me; what did I do wrong in my timeline to not be in a cool car or have my own warm ride? The babies call, sad, crying, hungry, some dying with the flying bullets from people who will not listen to the graves of last years past.

Life makes me presents; a present that is not a gift, a present in the here and now; the today and tomorrow, this year and next year – not promised, but hoped for. Working hard everyday to make sure my to boys see the way is worth the pain, worth the trouble, because when I look into their eyes, its Daddy’s body double.