The PR Blog

It was about 30 years ago when I was living in a tiny town in the Channel Country. It was a Sunday morning and I got a phone call from a hospital about 14 hours away. My daughter was in their care and suffering from a particularly nasty viral infection in her lungs. Could I perhaps come as soon as possible? She had  Meningococcal pneumonia. 

She was a young Nurse. A kind and caring young 18-year-old. In training. 

Alone, so far from home. 

As a Mum. I needed to be with her. 

So I started my journey to do what I had to do: be with my daughter. Because that is what mothers do. 

Looking back over my life, the following memories are imprinted indelibly on my mind. All of them memorable and all of them involving some degree of having been " Flysad. "

It is a thing that many people suffer from, only they do not know it. It is an affliction that many of us suffer from, yet it is rarely referred to by its name. That killer of relationships and reputations:  To be attacked without warning from an unknown source. We have all been Flysad at one time or another and this is my story.

In a vote of 48-21, the Democrat-controlled Assembly in California voted to pass AB 2223, which pro-life advocates have dubbed “The Infanticide Bill” because it would allow newborn babies to legally die with no penalty or punishment for the mothers.

A form of post-abortion murder, the legislation would shield a mother from all civil and criminal charges if her newborn baby dies seven days after birth or longer. All “actions or omissions” related to her pregnancy, “including miscarriage, H” would be covered.

" We need to preserve wild spaces. Outside in the environment, but also within ourselves. The opposite of control isn’t chaos, it is reality" 

I read this quote this morning and it got me pondering. 

What a profoundly wonderful piece of truth.

Five-year-old children generally have no idea what adult sexuality is about….

America has an eating disorder — have you noticed? — and a touch of the old sexual dysphoria — am I a boy or a girl? — and has been caught in its room playing with razor blades. Ergo: America is a thirteen-year-old girl in need of some therapeutic assistance. Who will answer the call for help?

It is testament to mankind’s enduring optimism, as much as our enduring hubris, that with every generation hope should spring anew that the fundamental forces which have governed our affairs since time immemorial have changed for the better.

After each passing calamity, the majority are once again lulled back into the comforting fantasy that we’ve reached the end of history, that the perennially destructive impulses of vanity, pride, greed, narcissism, cowardice, and inhumanity have been consigned to mere curiosities in our books and historical records, no longer playing any significant role in the decision-making of those with the power to shape our reality and the causes to which they recruit us.