If Women Can Sleep Their Way To

Without Even Knowing It, We Are Assaulted By A High Note Of Urgency All The Time. We End Up Pacing Ourselves To The City Rhythm Whether Or Not It's Our Own. In Time We Even Grow Hard Of Hearing To The Rest Of The World. Like A Violinist Stuck Next To The Timpani, We May Lose The Ability To Hear Our Own Instrument.

How Many Of The People I Know - Sons And Daughters - Have Intricate Abstract Expressionist Paintings Of Their Mothers, Created Out Of Their Own Emotions, Attitudes, Hands. And How Many Have Only Polaroid Pictures Of Their Fathers.

I Wonder Whether Our Adoption Of Shrink-ese As A Second Language, The Move From Religious Phrases Of Judgment To Secular Words Of Acceptance, Hasn't Also Produced A Moral Lobotomy. In The Reluctance, The Aversion To Being Judgmental, Are We Disabled From Making Any Judgments At All?

If There's A Single Message Passed Down From Each Generation Of American Parents To Their Children, It Is A Two-word Line: Better Yourself. And If There's A Temple Of Self-betterment In Each Town, It Is The Local School. We Have Worshipped There For Some Time.

Welfare Is ... The Victim Of National Compassion Fatigue.