Ode to Our Viola

[H2O Man]

5. Thank you.

I still have some unattractive bruises on my old bag of bones, but am feeling pretty good. I'm glad that I didn't break any bones!

Being human, I am certainly imperfect. A few years back, I was walking my dog on a corner of my lawn, while my young daughters waited for the school bus. I noticed a car slowing down as it approached; after going by slowly, the driver backed up and unrolled his window, preparing to talk to my girls. Old Dad raced across the lawn, and when he saw me, the fellow sped off. By the time I was able to get in my vehicle, he was long gone.

I called the state police. The gentleman who came to our house detected that I was enraged. He later told the girls' mother that he had identified the creep, and had spoken with him. But he said he didn't want me to learn the creep's identity, as he thought I'd go after him.

Although I'm old now, if there is an immediate threat to my children, I can still do a fuck of a lot of damage -- fast. And I reserve that human right. If that threat isn't immediate, I favor using the justice system. Thus, I can't say how I would have responded if I were there Saturday, and could have gotten my hands on the shithead who killed Heather Heyer, who could have been my daughter.