Last night Erin called to tell me that a good friend of her's, David, that she works with, was attacked, beaten and left for dead over the weekend. We assumed it was because he was gay, and it may have been, although the police think that it was maybe a random act of violence as they took his phone and wallet. It upset me more than anything has in a long time. David played dead, hoping that they would quit beating him and leave. He (David) had just left a Halloween party and was walking to his car. After his assailants left he was able to make it back to the apartment where the party had been. He was just released from the hospital and is afraid to be alone. Erin spoke with him today and he is petrified....and who could blame him.

I've really had a difficult time dealing with this, and I'm not sure why. I've met David, but he certainly isn't a friend...perhaps part of it was hearing the sadness and fear in Erin's voice when she told me what had happened. We assumed that it was a hate crime...and that caused the hackles on my neck to stand right up.

I may not agree with his lifestyle, but I firmly believe that no one has the right, because of their beliefs, to abuse anyone either physically or mentally. I believe David and those who think like he does, should be entitled to the same rights as the rest of us enjoy. I believe this with every fiber of my being. I've thought about it a lot today, because I have always thought this way. My Mom and I used to have terrible fights because I felt that the Piute Indians who lived in Bishop with us should be treated just as we were....my mom didn't feel this way. My Dad was always having to referee our arguments as they became very, very heated. So...I started thinking...why, when I had a mom who had definite prejudices did I feel the way I did. I think it went back to my Granddad, Dave Bromley. When I was little, and I mean really little, probably not more that 3 or 4, my Granddad would take me with him to Manzanaur. This was where the Japanese Americans were kept during world war II. Granddad worked at Manzanuar. When he took me out there, it would have been 3 or 4 years after the war had ended...and there were still Japanese people there. He would visit them...and I remember one lady who would always give me a sugar cube. I thought this was the greatest thing in the world. I was too young for Granddad to tell me how he felt about the imprisonment of these wonderful people, but by his actions he let me know....and I think it made a huge impression on me. I will always feel that everyone, no matter their beliefs, their faith, the color of their skin or their sexual orientation should be entitled to the same rights as the rest of us are. We are incredibly blessed to be in the United States....and we take our freedoms for granted. I wonder what gives any of us the right to decide who should have certain rights....how do we line everyone up and say, you get this right, you get that right and you don't. What makes us so arrogant as to think that we can make that determination....I'm glad that Heavenly Father is the one to do the judging. I know my beliefs are not popular with many that I know....but I can't change how I feel....it is so much a part of me....something deep within that I can't deny....and I believe it with all my heart and soul.

It makes me sad for David and others like him....whether his being beaten was a hate crime or a random act....it had the same affect on me. Everyone, no matter how they look, how they think, how they believe or how they feel...should be able to walk out in the street without fear. It makes me angry that I now have that fear for myself, for my children and for my grandchildren. It makes me know that there is much wickedness in the world...it is all around us....we need to protect ourselves and those we love....and more importantly....we need to teach them, and remember ourselves, how to treat each other. The Golden Rule is more important today than it has probably ever been.