Killing Me Softly
My daughter Nyla posted a message on her Facebook page. It read, “I can’t wait to go to Maine for College. I have got to get out of Killwaukee.” I was struck and saddened by her use of a “K” in Milwaukee, but I really couldn’t argue with her or admonish her in any way. Lately, when the news comes on, it can reflect a dark inner city story, where someone’s life was snuffed out. Before May 2013, I had not known anyone personally who had been killed (by a person with a gun) at least not someone near and…
