There’s a Skunk in the Cinnamon

For years realtors have seduced prospective home buyers by warming a foil packet with cinnamon and brown sugar in the oven. Restaurant owners know that certain colors stimulate appetite and mall owners are aware that picking the right music to play in the background can encourage sales.


But, of course, in the end whatever defects the house has are still there, the food presented still needs to be tasty and the goods offered in stores need to be attractive and well priced. If the smell, sight and atmosphere of a place enhance a good experience they are a bonus; if they are meant as smoke and mirrors to hoodwink naïve individuals and cover up flaws they are unethical.


When it comes to public safety, these types of shenanigans are dangerous. How many people are shocked, just shocked, that while law-abiding passengers dutifully tossed out their water bottles and hand creams before boarding a plane this past Saturday, a terrorist ignored the rules? Probably the same people who believe that not letting passengers out of their seats for the last hour of a flight will really solve the problem.


But, like you, I lead a busy life. There is family to take care of, a back-log of work which requires attention and bills that need to be paid. We have, over the past few weeks, received greetings from friends updating us on their families’ growth and activities. We had a chance to see much of our own family. Had we been able to master the time/space/money continuum we could have attended the wedding of three friends’ children last week. There are many blessings for which to be grateful.


If I truly focus on the massive terrorist network out there or the health bill that was rammed through the Senate, or the arrogance, incompetence and corruption of those in office in this country and around the world, I would have to turn my life upside down and react. I don’t even know what form that would need to take, as I see no wise leadership on any horizon.


I feel like a mother in 1862, busily canning fruit and making sure that her sixteen-year-old son wears a sweater when he’s outside. Those are her immediate concerns; what can she do about the threats looming on the horizon? It is far easier to smell the cinnamon sugar, while enjoying the décor and music.


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