E.M.’s Weekly Word: 1-22-23 A Reckoning is Coming

This week’s word is: generation


“Who the heck names these generations?!”

“I’ve never thought about that.”

“Well, the people labeling everything these days ought to be fired!”

“Why are you so upset?”

“Because labels matter. One modifying word can set the tone. What if we called the “climate crisis” the “climate obstacle”? That dumbass “crisis” modifier is meant to frighten everyone! People have always had the ability to innovate and adapt to challenges. Scaring everybody is counterproductive. You can ‘bet the farm’ that the new age labeling of things has underlying usefulness to someone.”

“You’re so cynical. Relax.”

“Really? What does calling a generation “X” or “Z” tell us? It tells me that they aren’t important enough to have a real name, much less, a legacy. I’m starting to believe that today’s powerful people intend to promote hopelessness. Heck… on top of that our youth are encouraged to be ‘stoned’ and ‘hypnotized’ by Tik Tok. There’s something diabolical going on buddy!”

“You’re just being one of those ‘conspiracy theorists’. Let’s get a drink and watch a game.”

“You go ahead. I’m going to pick up my grandkids and we’re going to ‘hang out’. I’d like to think they’d become the “Reckoning Generation”. We Boomers are obligated to light a few “fires” and it starts with influencing our grandchildren.”



https://emkingston.wordpress.com/2023/01/22/e-m-s-weekly-word-january-22/

Wordle #581- 12-04-22- The Reckoning



“What you going to do about it, numb nuts?”

That was the last straw! He not only was challenging me, but he had resorted to using foul language in front of ladies!
A flame rising from the ashes of my childhood fears when listening to my drunken father’s abusive rants at my mother was uncontrollably burning inside me.
When I reached for his throat, the walls of the saloon seemed to split open. One large gap spilled a blinding light over the two of us. I was no longer a child cowering underneath my bed. A reckoning was at hand!

The rest is a blur, even now, as I await my moment on the gallows. My own future decided by men longing for a cold beer and a quick resolution had dismissed who I was in favor of who they needed me to be- a murderer.

The world would soon forget, possibly even forgive, me. I had rid this place of a brutal bully who had terrorized every single citizen causing a weight of hopelessness and despair.

As the hangman pulled the lever, I felt my mother’s tender touch sweep along my cheek beckoning me to come home.