Hate Invades the Quotidian
I can no longer assure my daughters that violence won’t enter our family’s spaces.
by Franklin Foer
May 01, 2019
3 minutes
![](https://article-imgs.scribdassets.com/1dsqx7v934bysxvw/images/fileCC2EFZ6U.jpg)
The phone sits in the drink holster, next to the gear stick. I want Jack Dorsey’s dopamine hit as bad as a morning cup of coffee. But my daughters are in the back seat, so even at a red light I resist the impulse, and it passes. We’re on our way to a soccer tournament beyond exurbia. There’s no traffic, and all thoughts of politics slip from my conscious mind.
At a gas-station break, the announces another synagogue shooting, this time in California. I look at my daughters in the car, with their ponytailed heads leaning against the windows. I walk into the station’s store and mindlessly buy junk food, taking my time and hoping that my fury will subside before I return to the wheel.
You’re reading a preview, subscribe to read more.
Start your free 30 days