I’m crying tonight as I write this. A night out for pizza has become another lesson in the hideous tragedy of addiction. I live in a beautiful small town, Franklin, Tennessee, that I’ve often described as a real-life Hallmark movie. And yet, our children are dying. I’m tired of it. The stories, the babies left behind, the grieving parents and grandparents. In spite of the tragedy of a genetic disorder that is slowing taking my daughters mobility, I still get to call my children, talk to them, and watch them make a mark on this world. Tonight I met the