SHARED GRIEF

I'm just now getting around to writing about this, a week after the shocking news of three young people killed 10 miles from where I live, and a fourth young man gravely wounded.  The shooter was a classmate of all of them when they were in high school, the former boyfriend of the young woman killed.  All were 18-19 years old and in their first years of college;  all of life ahead of them and by all accounts talented, gifted, vibrant individuals.  I'm just now writing about this because writing about it sooner would have made it too real.  I just couldn't believe it.

The story is that the shooter broke up a couple of months ago with the young woman he killed.  She began dating other guys.  He wanted to reconcile and was jealous.  There was a gathering of a bunch of friends at a private residence in the small, quiet waterfront town where they lived.  It was not unusual for this family to open their large home to these kids who were well-behaved and just having fun together.  (My younger son, when he was in high school had good friends in that community, his best friend in fact, and hung out at their homes at parties and gatherings just like that one.  I could picture him there, on a similar summer night, having fun with his buddies.)

At about midnight, the shooter showed up.  He saw his ex-girlfiend with another guy, returned to his car to read the instruction manual for the Ruger semi-automatic rifle and two 30 round magazines he had purchased days before and returned to the party to shoot his ex-girlfriend.  He did, as well as three others before finally fleeing the scene.  The girl and two boys died there.  A third boy was wounded and taken to a Seattle trauma center in serious condition.  A community woke up last Saturday morning to this shocking news.  It had happened again.  It had happened here.

I've been reading about the kids who were killed.  There has been less written about the shooter other than that his parents are devastated and remorseful.  I can't even imagine their shock and grief.  He was apprehended a couple of hours later driving south of Seattle, making frantic cell calls to out of state friends.  (Police were able to pinpoint his location based on cell tower "pings" off his phone - technology can be a good thing.)  He basically confessed to everything and gave the police a chronology of his actions.  I don't know what kind of defense they will mount for him, but I heard he's entering a "not guilty" plea.  The law baffles me at times.

What I haven't said yet is that I know the father of the boy who was wounded.  He is engaged to a friend I've known for 20 years.  We've socialized with them and I met his son last December at a gathering at their home.  It is unbelievable that my friends are party to this, are devastated by this,   are unhinged and disbelieving about this.  Fortunately the young man is recovering from his physical wounds.  The bullets shattered his shoulder blade, likely saving his life, since the doctors say had it hit anywhere else he would likely have been killed.  His physical wounds will heal.  But how does anyone ever heal emotionally and psychically from seeing and hearing your best friends being killed, the screams from others at the gathering, the horror of the carnage left behind?    I know my friends and they are wise, compassionate, resourceful people with a huge support system.  They will do all they can to help this young man regain his strength and heart.  But such a tragedy, such an experience can never be fully overcome, can it?

I will say it now.  Had this troubled young man, the shooter, not had a gun in his hand, four lives would have been saved.  Kids fall hard in love at that age.  They have limited experience with break-ups and moving on.  Their brains are not fully formed.  They say and do stupid things.  They need time to live and learn and find perspective.  I would guess that "back in the day" this kid might have shown up to find his ex-girlfriend with another guy and maybe caused a scene.  There might have been yelling, pushing, shoving, maybe a punch thrown.  But I can't believe three people would have been killed in a pique of jealous rage.  And the shooter himself maybe would have walked away defeated, embarrassed, bereft for awhile.  But he wouldn't be facing a possible death sentence at worst, a long prison sentence at best, at the age of 19.  The families of all of these kids, those killed and wounded and those of the boy who did the shooting, wouldn't be torn apart by an unending grief.

A 19 year old can't legally buy a beer, but he legally walked into a store somewhere and buy a semi-automatic rifle.  He bought the second magazine for it the very day he killed his friends.  There is something very wrong with this scenario.  It is impossible to overstate how much I hate the gun culture we live in, how ridiculous I feel it is that so many people walk around armed, how the gun lobby has hamstrung our Congress to the point that common sense gun laws are stalled at every turn.  The CDC is prevented from researching the effects of gun violence; pediatricians are forbidden to ask parents of children whether they have a gun in the home and how it is secured.  We have a public health epidemic of gun violence in our communities and we are doing almost NOTHING about it.  It's harder to get a driver's license and maintain a car than to buy and use a gun.

I've joined Mother's Demand Gun Sense in America, associated with Everytown for Gun Safety, USA.  Mom's Demand was organized by an Indianapolis mother the day after the Sandy Hook Elementary School shootings.  It has grown to have chapters through the U.S.  I hope to join (or start) a chapter in my county.  This has to end.

At least, that's the view from here...©

SUPER KIDS

It's Monday -- one of my fave days to sit down with the local paper because the feature "Super Kid" appears on Mondays.  This column highlights a high school student from within the wider community who is, indeed, "super".  They are usually academic standouts, with well-defined goals, and lots of energy for living a full and productive life now and presumably in the future.  They are bright, promising, motivated -- all those things we celebrate as healthy and vital to success.

It is heartening to read about these kids.  This is the flip side of the too frequently sad and bad news in the headlines, often about the kids who have gone down a different and destructive path.  The Super Kids reassure me that our world is in good hands -- the generation to come will be capable, responsible, creative, and committed to service to our community and the world.  I feel a sense of relief and gratitude.

I notice some characteristic similarities about them, regardless of presumed socio-economic status, gender, or ethnicity.  Most are taking multiple Advanced Placement classes, to ready themselves for college, which most have already chosen along with their intended majors.  They are generally involved in a number of extra-curricular activities as well -- sports, music, drama, art, student government, or leadership clubs.  Many also volunteer in the community for museums, animal shelters, or charitable organizations.  They tend to have strong family ties and many have a strong connection to a spiritual/faith community.

And they say they have very little free time -- which is where I start to worry.  Scheduling themselves to the minute, worrying about SAT scores, working to build an impressive extra-curricular resume while maintaining an impressive GPA starts to sound a lot like a recipe for stress.  They are always smiling in the photo that accompanies the article, but I have to wonder if there are times when it all gets to be just too much for their 16- or 17-year-old selves.

Maybe I'm projecting -- I am currently on a self-imposed "sabbatical" from doing, doing, doing.  I've written previous posts about taking some steps back from my usual chaotic calendaring of activities, but it seems so easy to slip back into "too busy" mode.  I blame our culture.  We place a high premium on our shining work ethic.  That's why at first blush these "Super Kids" can be elevated to Top Role Model status.  They are keeping all the balls in the air, smiling for the camera, and taking on the world! Be like them!!!  So tempting....

But most teens are neither the front page sad stories, nor the Local Section Super Kids.  They are just regular kids going about their teen years trying to muddle through and come out the other side with only a few (hopefully heal-able) scars.  That's how I was.  That's how my boys were.  Mostly happy, lots of friends, pretty good grades, some hobbies and interests and activities, a few set-backs, a few disasters, learning and growing and making it through.  Then, on to college and wondering what to "be" when it's over and sometimes still wondering well into adulthood if the choices were the right ones and asking, "When is it too late to change course?" (Never).

I honor the Super Kids.  I am amazed at their youthful accomplishments.  And I hope they don't burn out before they hardly begin.  "Slow down," I want to tell them.  Learn to breathe and "be".  We need role models for self-care and self-reflection too.  Doing it all only lasts until one day you realize you can barely do anything without exhaustion enveloping every move.  It's OK to be "regular" sometimes, doing work you can enjoy, surrounded by a supportive family and few good friends, and nurturing a connection to something larger than yourself.  That's enough to save our world too.

At least, that's the view from here....©

TP WARS

Fall is a beautiful time of year.  My favorite, really.  Crisp, cool nights.  Bright, sunny days.  Memories of back-to-school activities -- new clothes, sharpened pencils, high school football games, Homecoming floats...

...And the strange and quaint ritual of TP'ing each other's houses.  This is what passed for edgy fun in my girlfriend circles in the late 60's in northern Illinois.

It's Friday night.  The plan is made.  We raid our linen closets of several rolls of toilet paper, gather at one of the girls' houses with our stash, and decide who would "get it" tonight!  Then we pile into a car, drive to the victim's residence, surreptitiously parking a block or so away (so sneaky!), and make our Ninja-like approach.  Taking up various posts, rolls of TP in hand, we proceed to decorate bushes, shrubs, sidewalks, and porches with flowing rivers of tissue.  For the piece de resistance, we fling entire rolls into the air, allowing streamers of TP to hook around tall tree branches, the roll falling to the ground, to be flung again, over and over, until the trees shimmered with streamers of white.  Then barely unable to contain our naughty glee, we race back to the car and speed away.  Laughing hysterically or dramatically recalling the thrill of almost getting caught when Mrs. Jones stood up from her recliner and walked across the living room and glanced out the window!  Oh my!

My TP skirmishes are very different these days.   They revolve around the "nearly empty roll".    I've become convinced that there is some strategy employed in ensuring the user before me will NOT be the one to put on a new roll of paper on the holder.  How is it possible that they could take care of their business and leave about 6 squares still on the roll?  Really?  Had just enough -- didn't need even a teensy bit more?  I feel there is a conspiracy afoot that guarantees I am the one who changes the rolls of toilet paper.  I have 3 bathrooms in my home.  No matter which one I use, it seems I'm there just in time to change the roll.  This also used to happen at work -- two restrooms -- two nearly empty rolls when I got there.  (And recently even at my Yoga studio!)  It's just weird.

I'm thinking a little payback may be in store.  I'm experienced at this.  So watch out all you leavers of empty rolls -- I've got a stash and I know where you sleep!  I'm justified.

At least, that's the view from here....©