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Sometimes I feel like singing Bob Dylan’s “Everything Is Broken” song:

Broken bottles broken plates
Broken switches broken gates
Broken dishes broken parts
Streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken.

I understand the whole “store up your treasures in heaven” concept, but it still gets old having to try to fix things—and people. Our shower leaks, the kitchen sink leaks, you know things like that. And, here I am, the one who thinks turning off running water is more important than holding a crying baby! (Note: that comes from the results of one of those questionable surveys people like to give . . .)

Saturday we discovered that both our cars out front had been vandalized. The CR-V has a chip in the front windshield that can probably be repaired without replacing the whole windshield. Knowing that was a small satisfaction until later that night when we discovered that the 240SX’s side window had been shattered. Let’s just say if it really does snow, it’s going to get in the car.

Jackson says he saw the neighbor’s grandkids throwing rocks into the street and at the cars. He glared at them and they ran inside. I have a hard time thinking that really young kids would be able to throw rocks hard enough to break windshields, let alone that they would not run after actually hitting the first one.

I think it’s more vandalism to go along with other actions like all the tagging in our neighborhood, the egging of our Mercury and the RV, and the throwing of the baseball through the RV’s back window. And people wonder why we get frustrated with our neighborhood sometimes . . .

But, unkind people can be found anywhere, can even visit our neighborhoods to bring about damage of all sorts. And it’s hard picking up the pieces after people who seemed like decent people either changed or turned out to be something else. Some changes are good, but not all are.

Every time there is a broken vow, especially when broken with unkind words and actions, we shouldn’t be surprised when “broken words never meant to be spoken” are spoken back.

I’m not so old that I don’t remember sending out a few broken hearts—whether belonging to friends or more than friends—into the streets.

Sometimes that’s what we have to do, but we better never pretend it’s a game.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.


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