A Dead Hand

In one of his most recent books, Paul Theroux refers to writer's block as having a dead hand. Although I am not a writer, I understand. For the past week or so I have had a dead hand. I started writing a post for another blog and got as far as the first sentence. The only writing of any length that I have managed have been a couple of responses to post on other blogs, one of which was something of a rant.

There are reasons why I have had trouble getting started writing. One is that I have a habit of thinking about too many things at the same time: the GOP attempt to turn back the progress on health care reform; the continuing battles in the Anglican Communion; whether the snow will make it harder for me to get to a class today at Episcopal Divinity School. Not all of them very important, but they rattle around in my brain and I have very little ability to do what doctors call triage. (BTW, there is a wonderful blog post, Triage, at our daughter's blog, Advanced Maneuvers.)  

One of the things that I have been thinking about lately is how unbelievably rude people can be in their comments on blogs. It seems that whatever manners they may have had are completely forgotten as they call people they have never met the most crude and hateful names. I recall someone mentioning a couple of simple questions that we should ask before doing something. "Would I want my mother to see me doing this?" and "Would I want this reported on the front page of my local newspaper?" Not bad questions, and ones that some posters of comments might seriously consider.