It was naive of me to figure I could offer a quiet little remembrance here on my sleepy little slog in the midst of a highly competitive reportorial frenzy where journalists are desperately scurrying for any nugget of info they can find.
As I stated in my piece, I didn't know Nancy well. In fact, what I said was pretty much all I've got to say. She's a friend-of-friends who I periodically would briefly bump into, and who always seemed kind-hearted...and, yes, a bit high-strung. But with ample reason, as it turns out.
That was actually the main reason I shared the story. There's a lesson I keep needing to relearn: one never knows what people are dealing with in their private lives. During my Chowhound years, I was highly stressed, and people who didn't understand this may have concluded that I'm naturally anxious or uptight. So I shouldn't need to be constantly retaught that I ought to give people lots of slack. We all ought to give people lots of slack! You never know what someone's quietly putting up with.
But back to the media frenzy thing...I've dumped everything I've got. It's not for me to speak up and be the person who paints the picture of who Nancy Lanza was. Perhaps someone who knew her a lot better than I did will step up. Lord knows every reporter from here to jabip is trying to scratch their way to that person. But the truth is, no one who really knew and loved her is going to be speaking out at length so soon after this (insert weary aside about the vulturishness of the 24 hour news cycle here)
But since I'm not that guy, I have no further comment. So please, reporters, if you're reading this, don't waste time by emailing or calling me.
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- Postcards From My Childhood Part 5: The Strong Dru...
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