No, Senator Menendez, You Don’t Get to Play the Race Card!
This is why words must handled with the same care we would give an egg that has fallen from a bird’s nest
As a kid, I recall the commotion that a single lost egg from a bird’s nest could kick up in our neighborhood. Huddled in a hushed mass, as many kids as happened to be out at the moment playing — without parents in tow — that’s how many would be looking down at the little egg.
“What do we do?”
“Let’s put it back!” A quick discussion of the logistics of how to get it back up the tree to the nest would usually result in displays of climbing bravado — “I can get up that high” — to giggling — “What are you a squirrel?”
“Let’s make an omelette!” No one was ever sure if that was a joke or just a hungry kid, but it was shooed away with “Ewwwws” and maybe a slap on the back, “Don’t be dumb.”
Inevitably, someone would come running out of the house with a basket cushioned with a towel and maybe some cotton balls. The egg would last be seen getting gently hauled off to the home of the kid who most clearly envisioned raising the little chick for his very own avian pet.
