Arthur’s child should have been 21 years young this upcoming October. He
misses him, or alternatively, her. What might she
have been like? What might have he have accomplished? Were their destinies
reversed, might (s)he … wannabe?

Ideally, he or she’d have been like little Lori Anne, who at six, came to be
the youngest qualifier for a National Bee ever. She
practiced her spelling while vaulting on trampolines. What she’s got can’t be
bottled … but it can be … copied.

The loss of a child is ever an unconsolable tragedy. Those left behind find, in Him,
strength. How far greater then the loss of ALL children from
super-tragedies, now looming? What if, in acting like children, we lose them?
Heed the cries of all of them … Jew, Christian and Muslim.

Abubakar Shekau and Boko Haram are the proof of this inedible pudding. The Jinn
sow the Devil’s evil resolutely, albeit, abominably.
This nation-state thing is dragging us down. How long then until we are secure in
a global citizenship that does away with … ‘national’ sovereignties?

Wherefore Arthur asks, as William Shakespeare so similarly and famously inquired
some few centuries ago: “To be, or not to be?”
Indeed, that’s the question that so ardently, and exigently, begs to be answered.
All await a reply … optimistically.


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