I lost faith at an early age.

It could have been at the church on Fresno Street during one of the endless Padre Martin sermons.

Or the sense of helplessness and loneliness when I was robbed on my street.

Perhaps it was the feeling of intolerance towards people like me in the summer of 1994 when the Californians sought to Save Our State.

Maybe it was the overdosed man who the paramedics carried out dead from the laundromat bathroom off Brooklyn Avenue while my mother and I looked on. It was during the rinsing cycle I think.

It would make sense that it was the sum of all things that added to my questioning and ultimate loss.

In any event, I lost faith at an early age.

Sandy Hook

I am turning the television and the internet off for a while. 
Not because I want to put my head in the sand or ignore the debate to come. I want to have some hours to reflect, mourn for young people who are gone to soon, and cherish the angels who are fast asleep just a few feet away. 
Good night to you and your families. My condolences to all those who are in agony this evening.