04/30/2023
It's not enough to say I'm grateful Terri Hemmert of 93XRT survived a shooting In New Orleans restaurant the night before last. Her dear friend was shot and injured, and a restaurant worker died. There Is no place safe in America, and we must use our voices and our votes to plea for common sense and solutions. Heaven help us, our children and future generations.
What I did on my spring vacation. I went to New Orleans. I did not go to the Jazz and Heritage Festival. I did not eat Crawfish Monica. I did start my big birthday party. It was interrupted by a hail of bullets. 28 of my precious friends were hitting the floor. I looked to my right. Two very special women were on the floor by my feet. There was blood. And a bullet hole in the wall. Two inches from me. And a bullet in my friend’s back. It was surreal. But it was real. Only too real. It was gang related. Someone died. Nobody we knew. But somebody’s son. Somebody’s brother. I will spare you some details, but the point here is that when you get tired of hearing about these shootings think again. It’s no longer a figure of speech when you say you dodged a bullet. And if someone says “this is not America” or “this is not us”, they had better duck. I’m not one to throw a punch, but there’s always a first time. I have a friend who will carry a bullet in her back. We all will never forget that trauma. If you attend the Fest For Beatles Fans you know my friend Victoria. I’ve known her since she was a 14 year old Beatle fan at The Fest. Now she’s an essential part of our fest team. She has been a big help in our campaign to stop hand gun violence. Remember how John Lennon died. Maybe we should change that to campaign to stop military weapons violence. What’s it gonna take? We are afraid of our kids reading a book or seeing a drag queen. But getting shot is the price we pay for so called “freedom.” I’m pi**ed. It probably didn’t get much press up North. But it’s the lead story in New Orleans. I guess one death is not newsworthy outside city limits. I’m pi**ed at the madness. And I am grateful that every one of the 28 people I hold dear are living another day.
My two friends and roommates this weekend and I are laying low. We’re not going to the fest. No restaurants, please. For now. We have stayed in our hotel. We have had friends come to bring us food and company. We appreciate it so much. Many have gone home early to be with their families. My excellent travel agent and friend rearranged our travel plans so my friend with a bullet in her back will not have to travel alone. We will both be in wheel chairs, first class, with complimentary adult beverages. My neighbor will pick us up. I will reunite with my cat and friends. She will embrace her sons and father. But none of us at that gathering will ever be the same. You can read about trauma but you can’t know how it feels till you wonder if its bullets or fireworks, and you look down and see two people you love covered with blood. There are a million stories I could share, but not ready. Maybe never. Just know that we are strong. That our loved ones have been so kind. And we will never get over it. Life goes on within you and without you. But as long as we refuse to do something about this epidemic, we are not “safe.” And neither are you. And everyone you love.
