Whether from a need for excitement in one’s life or what, sometimes you just find yourself doing something that only moments before had never even entered your mind. Such was the case the night of Dorothy’s 30th birthday party. I arrived a little early to help her set out snacks and pick out music. I certainly didn’t arrive with the intention of kidnapping her garden Gnome but as I walked up to the house, I noticed him sitting in an old planter by the door. We eyed each other for a moment, and then I simply picked him up, put him in the back of my car, and continued on as if nothing happened. When Dorothy came to the door to let me in, she never even noticed his absence. (I feel I should add here that there is nothing in my past that might suggest any sort of mania of a “klepto” nature).
The party was a great success with much laughing and dancing and it was quite late by the time I headed home. I almost forgot about the gnome in the back seat until I felt his eyes on me.
When I got home, I brought him in and sat him in a kitchen chair, and then I went to bed. The next morning I was sipping coffee when my daughter Kaitlin got up and came down to the kitchen.
“Do you know that there’s a garden gnome sitting at the kitchen table?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay then.” She went about making herself some breakfast. A little while later my son got up. “Cool Gnome” he said as he headed towards the fridge.
While on my second cup of coffee my husband came downstairs. “Why is there a garden Gnome at the kitchen table?” he asked no one in particular. “Ask Mom”, my daughter volunteered. My husband looked at me. “Should I ask?” he wondered. “Probably not” I answered.
Later that morning my daughter finally said, “So really, what’s with the Gnome?”
I explained how it came to be at our table and that I was trying to decide what to do about it. We put our heads together. Sometime later there were several digital photos of the gnome ready to print. We put black tape over his eyes and mouth and tied him to the kitchen chair with rope. Kaitlin put on a “Scream” halloween mask and posed beside him holding a large kitchen knife threateningly! Then we both collapsed into giggles that lasted for several minutes.
The piece de resistance was finding a font called Ransom that my friend Doug kindly provided at work the next morning once I explained what I was up to. The print looks just like you cut letters out of a magazine or newspaper. It was perfect! When Dorothy arrived at work that morning, the letter along with the photos was waiting on her desk. The letter went something like this: We have your Gnome. Do not call the police! If you ever want to see him again deliver one dozen chocolate chip cookies to the file cabinet in the middle of the accounting department (Dorothy makes awesome chocolate chip cookies!). Signed: the kidnappers. PS: I had a really good time at your birthday party on Saturday night.
The next morning there was a plate of chocolate chip cookies sitting on the appointed file cabinet, which I promptly shared with Doug! They were delicious. The Gnome was of course returned unharmed, and as far as I know, he never talked!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Where Goldfish Go To Die!
Like most kids, my children have always wanted pets. My daughter has killed off more goldfish than you could imagine – mostly from over feeding - and a couple of hermit crabs through basic neglect, so you can appreciate my reluctance to get anything like a dog or a cat. Not to mention the fact that my husband has never had pets and generally regards animals as things best left in the woods where they belong. He has gone so far as to threaten to move out should any suddenly appear in our house.
With my daughter, when yet another fish became a floater, I would quickly replace it before she noticed, not wanting to traumatize her at an early age. Between my husband and I, her room became known as " the place where Goldfish go to die!” However, this practice of stealthily replacing her fish became a bit impractical after a while, and so she learned about death.
I think she was about five the first time I explained that her fish wasn’t just floating on it’s back trying to catch a tan, but had in fact died. I broke it as gently as I could and told her we could have a funeral for it if she wanted. We found a small box to put it in, and buried it under the tree in the backyard. When we put the box in the hole we’d dug, I asked her if she wanted to say a few words, maybe say a little prayer? She thought about it for a minute, and then said, “Can I watch Barney now?”
All right, so she’s not the sentimental type. My son on the other hand has always been sensitive, although he’s learning to hide it as he gets older. I think he may hold some kind of record, or close to it, for keeping goldfish alive. He had one for seven years, and he also had a hermit crab that lived for about five years. When his goldfish died he was inconsolable, and I have to admit, he had me sobbing right along with him as we buried it under the tree. Not too long after that, his hermit crab also died, and after a suitable period of mourning, we decided to get another pet.
My husband quickly voted for another goldfish, but my son had always wanted a lizard.
Thinking to myself that it was likely to be the only pet he ever got with four legs, I finally agreed.
I am not ashamed to admit that we were unprepared for all that owning a lizard entailed. In our naiveté, we thought all you needed was a terrarium, food and water. And I have to say, the staff at the pet store really did nothing to disillusion me when we were buying these things.
Everything went swimmingly for a while until summer came along, and with it, air conditioning. I can only hope she didn’t suffer too much as, without a heat source, lizard number one apparently froze to death.
But we learned from our mistakes. After a suitable mourning period, lizard number two arrived, along with a heating pad that attached to the bottom of the terrarium.
I don’t know if you are aware of this, but one of the more disgusting things about lizards is that they eat live food - in our case, crickets. They will also eat mealworms, but this is really just too disturbing to even contemplate. Twice a week, when I was running errands, I would run into the pet store and buy a few crickets. When we decided to take a family vacation, the question naturally arose as to what to do with our lizard? The boy who lived next door was quite happy to come over each day and make sure it had enough water, but I was hesitant to ask him to feed it mid week. It can be tricky to get the crickets in without the lizard getting out and I live in secret fear of it escaping and taking up residence in the plumbing.
And so, we went to the pet store to ask for advice. The very helpful staff member told me that you can put in a whole week's worth of crickets with the lizard, no problem. That is a direct quote by the way, “No problem”. So that is what we did. Instead of the typical five or six, we dumped in an even dozen before we left on holiday.
When we returned one week later, there was a note taped to the front door of our house with the words “Read before you go in” written on the envelope. Somehow, I just knew that couldn’t be good. The neighbour was sad to report that during the night, on the day we left, the crickets had apparently staged a coup and not only taken over the terrarium, but had actually attacked and killed the lizard! My son took the news better than I expected, but we were again faced with a question: were we really up for lizard number three?
Before we went to the pet store (not that same one – I learned my lesson there, thank you!) I sat down with my son and explained that if we did get another lizard, this was going to be it. Not only was it getting expensive – not quite the same thing as replacing goldfish – but it was all getting to be a bit much. He said he understood.
Going to a different pet store across town, I explained the whole lizard saga to date. The clerk was quite sympathetic and a little bit horrified when I told her we put a dozen crickets in at once with our lizard. Apparently everyone knows you can’t do that! Now, the first two, both females, were of the same variety, which we particularly chose after talking to the staff at the pet store because they were supposed to be non aggressive and didn’t jump much – a good thing when you don’t want them escaping into your plumbing. This store didn’t have the same kind, but offered up instead a green anole. It was about the same size as the first two, and a beautiful shade of green. When I hesitated, she assured me that green anoles were very docile – you could play with them if you wanted to and, they don’t jump! She added that she also only ever sold females because they were even more docile than the males. So, with our new female green anole in an empty margarine container, we headed home.
When we got there, my son was all set to run up to his room and deposit the new lizard in the tank. I stopped him and told him to bring the terrarium out to the garage and we would put her in there. We were all set. The terrarium was sitting on top of the workbench at the back of the garage, my son lifted the lid and I opened the margarine container to tip in the lizard while my daughter watched from a distance. Clockwork. Except that the lizard looked up at me for a split second, then performed a move that would make any Olympic high jumper proud, and landed on my foot! Before anyone could react, she scampered off my foot and under the workbench. Two things happened at this point; my daughter started screaming because the lizard was loose and my son looked like he was about to cry as he watched his last hope of ever owing a pet vanish with a flick of its green tail.
Naturally, my first thought was to leave it there, but my son’s face got to me so I started barking out orders: I told him to shut the garage door so it couldn’t get outside, and turn the lights on, and sent my daughter (still screaming) into the house. I bent down and peered under the workbench and could just make it out cowering in the furthest corner. So, I did what any woman in a pencil skirt and black suede pumps would do in this situation – I put on my gardening gloves, got down on the garage floor, and wiggled under the workbench. I knew if I thought about it too long I would never be able to bring myself to touch it, so I just took a deep breath, reached out a gloved hand, and somehow, miraculously got it by the tail.
I wriggled back out, lizard in hand and as I stood up my son was ready with the lid of the terrarium raised. I dropped the lizard in, he slammed the lid, and we both just stood there staring at it for a moment. Suddenly my son was throwing his arms around me, saying, “Mom, you are the best ever”. Honestly, my knees were shaking so hard I really needed to sit down. As I held the door open for him to carry the terrarium back up to his room all I could think was, 'I really need a drink'!
About a month or so after this eventful homecoming, my husband and I were getting ready to go out for the evening when my son came to me quite worried because the anole, which was usually a vibrant green, was quite brown and just didn’t look good. With my husband yelling up the stairs, “Aren’t you ready yet?” Joseph and I went on the Internet to see if we could find out what was wrong with our lizard. To my utter amazement, all signs pointed to her being ‘stressed’. Stressed? The Lizard?
The next day, and about $100.00 later, the lizard had a new, bigger home, a large piece of driftwood to “sun” herself on, and some plants – and was very green indeed!
After the initial ordeal, things remained pretty uneventful for several months, and I admit, I was lulled into a false sense of security. So when my son came to me and said the lizard was lonely and needed a friend, I thought to myself, how bad could it be?
We had surely been through the worst already, we knew what we were doing now, so why not? My only stipulation was that we could only get another female. The last thing I needed was a bunch of baby lizards to worry about!
Saturday came and we went to the pet store. I explained to the staff person that we wanted another green anole but it had to be a female since the one we had now was female. There was a lot of conferring as other staff members were called in to consult on the matter. Various anoles were picked up, turned sideways and upside down and finally one was produced for our approval. The clerk said that while she could not say with one hundred percent certainty that the lizard she was holding was a female, she was as sure as she could get. I asked how she knew – they all looked exactly the same to me – and she explained that females are slighter of build and that males have a red ribbon down their throat that becomes very pronounced when they get near a female. This one had no red on it at all, so we took it home.
As before, my son brought the terrarium out to the garage for the transfer. This was even more nerve wracking than before as we not only had to get the new lizard in, but do so without letting the other one out!
It was choreographed to the last detail and went off without a hitch! Joseph and I bent down to see how our new lizard was reacting to her roommate.
Poor thing, her feet had barely hit the floor of her new home before the old lizard began doing this bizarre swaying, head-bobbing kind of dance and the biggest, reddest, balloon like…thing popped out on his throat. I watched in horror for a moment and my son turned to me waiting to see what I was going to say. I’m ashamed to tell you that I said a few things that I would not normally say in front of my children, but then the hysterical laughter took over and I needed to sit down again.
It has been two weeks. My daughter, who had never before taken the slightest interest in the lizard, now feels compelled to check daily and report back: “They’re doing it again!”
My son and his friend have been on the Internet excitedly researching how to breed green anoles! They are hopeful that we could see eggs in as little as two weeks. They said when the babies are born, I could be their Grandma! I informed them that was not funny!
With my daughter, when yet another fish became a floater, I would quickly replace it before she noticed, not wanting to traumatize her at an early age. Between my husband and I, her room became known as " the place where Goldfish go to die!” However, this practice of stealthily replacing her fish became a bit impractical after a while, and so she learned about death.
I think she was about five the first time I explained that her fish wasn’t just floating on it’s back trying to catch a tan, but had in fact died. I broke it as gently as I could and told her we could have a funeral for it if she wanted. We found a small box to put it in, and buried it under the tree in the backyard. When we put the box in the hole we’d dug, I asked her if she wanted to say a few words, maybe say a little prayer? She thought about it for a minute, and then said, “Can I watch Barney now?”
All right, so she’s not the sentimental type. My son on the other hand has always been sensitive, although he’s learning to hide it as he gets older. I think he may hold some kind of record, or close to it, for keeping goldfish alive. He had one for seven years, and he also had a hermit crab that lived for about five years. When his goldfish died he was inconsolable, and I have to admit, he had me sobbing right along with him as we buried it under the tree. Not too long after that, his hermit crab also died, and after a suitable period of mourning, we decided to get another pet.
My husband quickly voted for another goldfish, but my son had always wanted a lizard.
Thinking to myself that it was likely to be the only pet he ever got with four legs, I finally agreed.
I am not ashamed to admit that we were unprepared for all that owning a lizard entailed. In our naiveté, we thought all you needed was a terrarium, food and water. And I have to say, the staff at the pet store really did nothing to disillusion me when we were buying these things.
Everything went swimmingly for a while until summer came along, and with it, air conditioning. I can only hope she didn’t suffer too much as, without a heat source, lizard number one apparently froze to death.
But we learned from our mistakes. After a suitable mourning period, lizard number two arrived, along with a heating pad that attached to the bottom of the terrarium.
I don’t know if you are aware of this, but one of the more disgusting things about lizards is that they eat live food - in our case, crickets. They will also eat mealworms, but this is really just too disturbing to even contemplate. Twice a week, when I was running errands, I would run into the pet store and buy a few crickets. When we decided to take a family vacation, the question naturally arose as to what to do with our lizard? The boy who lived next door was quite happy to come over each day and make sure it had enough water, but I was hesitant to ask him to feed it mid week. It can be tricky to get the crickets in without the lizard getting out and I live in secret fear of it escaping and taking up residence in the plumbing.
And so, we went to the pet store to ask for advice. The very helpful staff member told me that you can put in a whole week's worth of crickets with the lizard, no problem. That is a direct quote by the way, “No problem”. So that is what we did. Instead of the typical five or six, we dumped in an even dozen before we left on holiday.
When we returned one week later, there was a note taped to the front door of our house with the words “Read before you go in” written on the envelope. Somehow, I just knew that couldn’t be good. The neighbour was sad to report that during the night, on the day we left, the crickets had apparently staged a coup and not only taken over the terrarium, but had actually attacked and killed the lizard! My son took the news better than I expected, but we were again faced with a question: were we really up for lizard number three?
Before we went to the pet store (not that same one – I learned my lesson there, thank you!) I sat down with my son and explained that if we did get another lizard, this was going to be it. Not only was it getting expensive – not quite the same thing as replacing goldfish – but it was all getting to be a bit much. He said he understood.
Going to a different pet store across town, I explained the whole lizard saga to date. The clerk was quite sympathetic and a little bit horrified when I told her we put a dozen crickets in at once with our lizard. Apparently everyone knows you can’t do that! Now, the first two, both females, were of the same variety, which we particularly chose after talking to the staff at the pet store because they were supposed to be non aggressive and didn’t jump much – a good thing when you don’t want them escaping into your plumbing. This store didn’t have the same kind, but offered up instead a green anole. It was about the same size as the first two, and a beautiful shade of green. When I hesitated, she assured me that green anoles were very docile – you could play with them if you wanted to and, they don’t jump! She added that she also only ever sold females because they were even more docile than the males. So, with our new female green anole in an empty margarine container, we headed home.
When we got there, my son was all set to run up to his room and deposit the new lizard in the tank. I stopped him and told him to bring the terrarium out to the garage and we would put her in there. We were all set. The terrarium was sitting on top of the workbench at the back of the garage, my son lifted the lid and I opened the margarine container to tip in the lizard while my daughter watched from a distance. Clockwork. Except that the lizard looked up at me for a split second, then performed a move that would make any Olympic high jumper proud, and landed on my foot! Before anyone could react, she scampered off my foot and under the workbench. Two things happened at this point; my daughter started screaming because the lizard was loose and my son looked like he was about to cry as he watched his last hope of ever owing a pet vanish with a flick of its green tail.
Naturally, my first thought was to leave it there, but my son’s face got to me so I started barking out orders: I told him to shut the garage door so it couldn’t get outside, and turn the lights on, and sent my daughter (still screaming) into the house. I bent down and peered under the workbench and could just make it out cowering in the furthest corner. So, I did what any woman in a pencil skirt and black suede pumps would do in this situation – I put on my gardening gloves, got down on the garage floor, and wiggled under the workbench. I knew if I thought about it too long I would never be able to bring myself to touch it, so I just took a deep breath, reached out a gloved hand, and somehow, miraculously got it by the tail.
I wriggled back out, lizard in hand and as I stood up my son was ready with the lid of the terrarium raised. I dropped the lizard in, he slammed the lid, and we both just stood there staring at it for a moment. Suddenly my son was throwing his arms around me, saying, “Mom, you are the best ever”. Honestly, my knees were shaking so hard I really needed to sit down. As I held the door open for him to carry the terrarium back up to his room all I could think was, 'I really need a drink'!
About a month or so after this eventful homecoming, my husband and I were getting ready to go out for the evening when my son came to me quite worried because the anole, which was usually a vibrant green, was quite brown and just didn’t look good. With my husband yelling up the stairs, “Aren’t you ready yet?” Joseph and I went on the Internet to see if we could find out what was wrong with our lizard. To my utter amazement, all signs pointed to her being ‘stressed’. Stressed? The Lizard?
The next day, and about $100.00 later, the lizard had a new, bigger home, a large piece of driftwood to “sun” herself on, and some plants – and was very green indeed!
After the initial ordeal, things remained pretty uneventful for several months, and I admit, I was lulled into a false sense of security. So when my son came to me and said the lizard was lonely and needed a friend, I thought to myself, how bad could it be?
We had surely been through the worst already, we knew what we were doing now, so why not? My only stipulation was that we could only get another female. The last thing I needed was a bunch of baby lizards to worry about!
Saturday came and we went to the pet store. I explained to the staff person that we wanted another green anole but it had to be a female since the one we had now was female. There was a lot of conferring as other staff members were called in to consult on the matter. Various anoles were picked up, turned sideways and upside down and finally one was produced for our approval. The clerk said that while she could not say with one hundred percent certainty that the lizard she was holding was a female, she was as sure as she could get. I asked how she knew – they all looked exactly the same to me – and she explained that females are slighter of build and that males have a red ribbon down their throat that becomes very pronounced when they get near a female. This one had no red on it at all, so we took it home.
As before, my son brought the terrarium out to the garage for the transfer. This was even more nerve wracking than before as we not only had to get the new lizard in, but do so without letting the other one out!
It was choreographed to the last detail and went off without a hitch! Joseph and I bent down to see how our new lizard was reacting to her roommate.
Poor thing, her feet had barely hit the floor of her new home before the old lizard began doing this bizarre swaying, head-bobbing kind of dance and the biggest, reddest, balloon like…thing popped out on his throat. I watched in horror for a moment and my son turned to me waiting to see what I was going to say. I’m ashamed to tell you that I said a few things that I would not normally say in front of my children, but then the hysterical laughter took over and I needed to sit down again.
It has been two weeks. My daughter, who had never before taken the slightest interest in the lizard, now feels compelled to check daily and report back: “They’re doing it again!”
My son and his friend have been on the Internet excitedly researching how to breed green anoles! They are hopeful that we could see eggs in as little as two weeks. They said when the babies are born, I could be their Grandma! I informed them that was not funny!
Monday, July 13, 2009
I have a theory.....
Written to cheer up my friend who is not speaking to her husband because he makes her mental!
I have a theory….
You know the story of the fox and scorpion? Both want to cross a raging river, and of course, the fox is the only one that can swim. The scorpion asks the fox to carry him over on his head. Naturally, the fox refuses and says, “I’m afraid that if I let you sit on my head, you will sting me and I will be paralyzed and then drown in the river!” The scorpion replies, “Don’t be ridiculous. If I sting you, we both drown, why would I do that?” The fox thinks about this for a moment, and then agrees to take the scorpion across. Before they are even halfway, the fox feels the sting of the scorpion’s tail. “What are you doing?” he gasps, “now we will both die!”
“I can’t help it,” says the scorpion, “it’s my nature”.
Renowned child developmental psychologist Jean Piaget advanced the theory many years ago that, among other things, all children are essentially egocentric (unable to appreciate anyone else’s point of view or feelings) until about the age of seven. Piaget came to this conclusion after years of research and study of children’s behavior. I would like to further his work by advancing my own theory, that Piaget apparently never really paid attention to the adult male. Having studied this species up close for several years, I propose that Piaget only had it half right. Female children are completely egocentric until the age of seven – males, never really change!
Let’s examine, if we can, why this is so. If all children are born this way, why is it that males fail to reach the next developmental stage? First and foremost, it is in their nature, in some deep biological way that we may never fully understand. Secondly, I blame mothers.
If a male child is allowed to think that the sun rises and sets on his beaming little face, then he will. If he is pampered, and catered to and never has to examine anyone else’s feelings but his own, than he won’t. I submit to you dear reader that this is often the case. One could suppose that an older sibling, who is tasked with watching over younger ones, will learn to subjugate his needs to some extent, but I fear that in reality the male child probably threatened and locked his younger siblings in the closet when he was supposed to be looking after them. But this still does not fully answer the question of why just men? Why do men suffer from this arrested development and not women? Women play with dolls! They learn from a very early age that someone else’s needs can take precedence over their own, that they are important and need to be fulfilled. Women are also more likely to have looked after younger siblings and not locked them in a closet.
When a women marries, this is reinforced again as she discovers that her Man depends on her and needs her in a way no one else ever has before and she will subjugate her needs to his – sometimes subconsciously, and sometimes just because she has worked all day and is tired and just wants him to stop talking!
The conclusion we can draw from this is that men cannot help themselves. They were born this way, and were subsequently raised in an environment that only served to reinforce the idea. Nature, reinforced by nurture! Therefore, when your spouse cannot seem to close a door quietly when you are asleep, or feels the need to wake you up to talk because he is not tired; when he hums, taps his feet, drums his fingers and sighs loudly when you are watching your favourite television show – because he is bored – consider this before you kill him: He can’t help it, he is made this way!
Ha! You are saying, I finally understand! I just thought he was nuts! Not so, at least not in any definable way.
This is an important research breakthrough for two very specific reasons: One, to save marriages everywhere, and in some extreme cases, prevent death. And two, because we can still change these unfortunate patterns. We can still save brothers, sons, and grandsons, not to mention countless women who will suffer at their hands if we do not intervene. We can do this – it’s not too late.
Nancy Raimondo
I have a theory….
You know the story of the fox and scorpion? Both want to cross a raging river, and of course, the fox is the only one that can swim. The scorpion asks the fox to carry him over on his head. Naturally, the fox refuses and says, “I’m afraid that if I let you sit on my head, you will sting me and I will be paralyzed and then drown in the river!” The scorpion replies, “Don’t be ridiculous. If I sting you, we both drown, why would I do that?” The fox thinks about this for a moment, and then agrees to take the scorpion across. Before they are even halfway, the fox feels the sting of the scorpion’s tail. “What are you doing?” he gasps, “now we will both die!”
“I can’t help it,” says the scorpion, “it’s my nature”.
Renowned child developmental psychologist Jean Piaget advanced the theory many years ago that, among other things, all children are essentially egocentric (unable to appreciate anyone else’s point of view or feelings) until about the age of seven. Piaget came to this conclusion after years of research and study of children’s behavior. I would like to further his work by advancing my own theory, that Piaget apparently never really paid attention to the adult male. Having studied this species up close for several years, I propose that Piaget only had it half right. Female children are completely egocentric until the age of seven – males, never really change!
Let’s examine, if we can, why this is so. If all children are born this way, why is it that males fail to reach the next developmental stage? First and foremost, it is in their nature, in some deep biological way that we may never fully understand. Secondly, I blame mothers.
If a male child is allowed to think that the sun rises and sets on his beaming little face, then he will. If he is pampered, and catered to and never has to examine anyone else’s feelings but his own, than he won’t. I submit to you dear reader that this is often the case. One could suppose that an older sibling, who is tasked with watching over younger ones, will learn to subjugate his needs to some extent, but I fear that in reality the male child probably threatened and locked his younger siblings in the closet when he was supposed to be looking after them. But this still does not fully answer the question of why just men? Why do men suffer from this arrested development and not women? Women play with dolls! They learn from a very early age that someone else’s needs can take precedence over their own, that they are important and need to be fulfilled. Women are also more likely to have looked after younger siblings and not locked them in a closet.
When a women marries, this is reinforced again as she discovers that her Man depends on her and needs her in a way no one else ever has before and she will subjugate her needs to his – sometimes subconsciously, and sometimes just because she has worked all day and is tired and just wants him to stop talking!
The conclusion we can draw from this is that men cannot help themselves. They were born this way, and were subsequently raised in an environment that only served to reinforce the idea. Nature, reinforced by nurture! Therefore, when your spouse cannot seem to close a door quietly when you are asleep, or feels the need to wake you up to talk because he is not tired; when he hums, taps his feet, drums his fingers and sighs loudly when you are watching your favourite television show – because he is bored – consider this before you kill him: He can’t help it, he is made this way!
Ha! You are saying, I finally understand! I just thought he was nuts! Not so, at least not in any definable way.
This is an important research breakthrough for two very specific reasons: One, to save marriages everywhere, and in some extreme cases, prevent death. And two, because we can still change these unfortunate patterns. We can still save brothers, sons, and grandsons, not to mention countless women who will suffer at their hands if we do not intervene. We can do this – it’s not too late.
Nancy Raimondo
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