A Little Good News

I spent the weekend trying to think of something terribly profound to write here, but came to the conclusion I'm not a profound person. *G*

It's true, really -- despite having a pretty decent IQ, I don't like deep, thought-provoking reading. I've had more than one person ask me why I "waste my time" reading romance, or other genre fiction (I also love fantasy and cozy mysteries). I should be reading the latest depressing Oprah pick, I suppose, or rereading "Of Mice and Men" by Steinbeck.

I hate Steinbeck.

I "waste my time" on romance (and other genre fiction) because, for the most part it's uplifting. It ends happily and makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I don't understand folks who don't enjoy that, to be honest.

Recently my local news station posted a story on their Facebook page about a deer in a New York cemetery who's protecting a Canadian goose and her nest since her mate was killed. Apparently it's the male goose who guards the nest while the female sits the eggs. Without the male, the nest is a goner. Except now this goose has a four-hooved protector. It was a great, sweet story. And yet, the comments were split -- half thanked them for posting because it WAS sweet, and the other half said things like, "THIS is news?"

Wouldn't it be nice to have a day when we didn't hear about earthquake casualties or fighting among the congress? A day when no child was abused, no woman raped, no man murdered?

The world can be a depressing place, more so because of the way the news is reported. I know good things happen every day, but when news agencies try to report them, they're mocked for not being serious enough. I wish they'd do it anyway.

So, yeah -- I'm a pretty smart person and I read romance. I'm proud of it and defend it rigorously.

How about you?

Let me leave you with an old song from the 80s that says what I was talking about (and for those of you who grew up then, the lyrics are a real flashback!):



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