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I wasn’t going to jump on the bandwagon, but here goes, anyway. What is it with Spitzer and Weiner? Having been the victim of sexual assault at a young age, perhaps I’m just sensitive to this.  And though the participants were all willing, and of age, there was still an assault.  On our trust, our innocence, our belief, yes, naïvete maybe, that politicians basically were like the rest of us – if not honest, at least moral, beings.  But what hurts is seeing Weiner on the streets, happily shaking hands and showing not the least bit of remorse.  Or worse, Spitzer on Leno talking grandly about how yes, it was “incredibly painful” (for whom?), and he committed an egregious mistake, but acting somehow like we’re supposed to applaud him now for his courage in running again. Or thank him. Say what?  When exactly did it become okay to trample on your marriage (and the wives who are staying with them!), forget about the law, even though you’re supposed to be upholding it

I know that twelve is no longer a child.  But I haven’t felt it in my gut until two things happened in Stamford in recent weeks. One, a sixth grader, violently beat a Hispanic man so badly he almost lost his eye. Then, sadly, a sixth grader drowned at Cove Island . I guess that, more than anything, shows the betwixt and between of this strange age.  How a child, yes, a child, could so assault a man – could want to assault a man – that the victim could almost be blinded, made me I realize how far I have to go, to truly understand this age. Allegedly, this child was in a gang but he was still in sixth grade, my son’s grade.  I’ll admit I hurriedly tried to find out what middle school he went to. But, as a friend said, he probably didn’t go to school. Then I thought about the young man who thought he could beat the current at Holly Pond where it flows down over the rocks into Long Island Sound.  I could see him, laughing and happy with his friends, and maybe underest

My son didn’t turn in his math homework. A straight-A student, he brought his grade down to an F.  This has happened before. The weird thing is, he does it.  He just doesn’t turn it in.  I’ve heard it’s a middle school thing.  The excuses range from “I left it in my locker” to “It wasn’t in my folder” to “I couldn’t find it in my desk.” Huh?  True, it’s not like he committed mass murder, but still.  It makes me wonder how well I know my son. And it made me think about that woman who wrote, “I am Adam Lanza’s Mother,” after Newtown .  She was on a PBS special this week and she talked about how she carries a Tupperware container full of knives, hammers, and other sharp kitchen tools in her car in case her son attacks her again with a knife.  He was 10 at the time. She said they live on eggshells, terrified of the next violent eruption.  The child himself said he hates it, but can’t control himself. Probably a lot like Adam Lanza. I realize that, in the schem