When I look at my grandbaby, and want to just hold him and do it over, I understand my mother's intense love for her grandchildren.
I'd watch the same bit over and over until I understood how they were doing things.
But over time I understood how easy it is to accidentally hurt a patient.
Over time, I understood it to be that raw, physical craving for an often-absent partner — the former hallmark of my romantic life.
Over time I understood that what this really meant was that they were striving to define themselves as something other than the endless media presentations of "scroungers".
As someone who has changed careers and who let children trump career over and over again, I understand why Caroline couldn't quite get it organized no matter how many Park avenue nannies there were.
I turned the question over and over until finally I understood more clearly where I stood: the only way to truly protect society from youthful offenders and to prevent more crime was to protect the offenders themselves.
Then, thinking over the matter, I understood it wasn't just the mesmerisingly insane quality to the movie that made me feel so emotionally rejuvenated.
For example, I meet a stranger by a frozen lake who tells me, "The ice is thin over there"; I understand his linguistic meaning perfectly; but is he simply informing me?, warning me?, threatening me?, joking?
(By the way, I am told that the term "birther" is derogatory, so in fairness, if you have an equally accurate but less offensive word, send it over). Although I understand the very compelling reasons for just ignoring the absurdity, my concerns about the cultural sickness that underlies the claims continues to gnaw at me.
