Introduction to Bad News

A break into new history

My kid is sick so Frozen was on the big screen. My screen on the couch buzzed and I saw the former president was bloodied in Butler, Pennsylvania. The kid sneezed. I scrolled for answers that did not exist. A neighbor came over and we remembered the certainty we felt about Hillary Clinton in 2016.

I wanted some giggles so I tossed the kid into the air and slid her into her high chair. People had died at a political event and it reminded me of the woman killed on Jan. 6, the police who died later, Mike Pence, Paul Pelosi, Steve Scalise, and Gabrielle Giffords. I thought about presidents Abraham Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, John Kennedy, Gerald Ford, Ronald Reagan, Barack Obama and how many more times this is going to continue to happen. I worried for friends who expressed dismay Donald Trump lived.

For dinner, I reheated chicken soup, which felt like a warm hug. I told the kid there was bad news. Dada felt distracted and sad, I said. She looked at me and understood.

She’d never heard “bad news” before. The kid only ever knew good news: Mama was coming, for example, or pancakes were on the menu. I mentioned good news intentionally; I want her to be media fluent and know trustworthy sources from malicious voices. I want her to avoid violence and revanchism.

I told her bad news can happen, but we are safe. I was happy I was with her and that she was with me.

At bedtime, we read “Llama Llama Nighty-Night” six times. My phone continued to buzz. Trump had been in WWE and ringside at MMA. He must feel like a real tough guy, finally, probably bigger now than Jesus Christ.

I left my phone in the kitchen and tried to stop myself. Locally, the kid is in her crib. She will feel all better soon. Nationally, it is a different story. It is a sad day and I won’t answer when we will heal.

Updated July 14 to include Gabrielle Giffords.