When I heard about the latest shooting rampage on a university campus, I cringed. Then I thought, "Oh no, not again." Then I ate dinner and checked my email. I didn't cry or rage or wring my hands or speculate as to why a young man would barge into a Midwestern lecture hall, guns blazing, and shoot more than 20 people, killing six and then himself.
The fact I didn't react makes me want to cry. The idea that I am somehow becoming "used to" school shootings, that it has become another common happening reported like the latest suicide bomb blast in the Middle East, is simply horrid.
I don't know how I'm supposed to behave. At some point, you have to distance yourself from this violence in order to cope, in order to function day-to-day. If I didn't adopt a rather blazé attitude, I'm not sure I could let myself walk out the door every day. I'm not certain I could trust someone to watch my child for eight or nine hours in preschool, for fear that someone with a grudge or perceived angst or too much time on his hands could rip apart my world in a second.
According to the "school shootings" entry in Wikipedia (if that indicates what kind of sickening notoriety the occurrences have gained), there have been seven school shootings in the U.S. since September. From elementary through college. Four have occurred in the past week, the most recent yesterday in at NIU in DeKalb, Ill.
And when you're not in school, where are you? At the mall, of course. Nine killed at Omaha's Westroads Mall after a shooting in Von Maur department store on Dec. 5. Five women were shot, execution-style, at Tinley Park Mall in the Chicago area earlier this month. A year ago, five were shot dead at Trolley Square mall in Salt Lake City.
Should I rant about our pathetic gun laws? Should I bemoan the effects of video games and movie violence on our youth? Should I point the finger at drugs and alcohol? How about blaming women for working outside the home? Or men for failing to instill the proper values? Or religion for alienating and shaming? Or our health care system for letting those suffering from mental illness fall through the cracks?
It all makes me tired. It makes me feel helpless and overwhelmed. So I eat dinner and check my email. And write a blog that doesn't have much of a point but feels better than doing nothing. And mourn the loss of people I don't know. People who could be my son or husband or parent or best friend. Or me.
The fact I didn't react makes me want to cry. The idea that I am somehow becoming "used to" school shootings, that it has become another common happening reported like the latest suicide bomb blast in the Middle East, is simply horrid.
I don't know how I'm supposed to behave. At some point, you have to distance yourself from this violence in order to cope, in order to function day-to-day. If I didn't adopt a rather blazé attitude, I'm not sure I could let myself walk out the door every day. I'm not certain I could trust someone to watch my child for eight or nine hours in preschool, for fear that someone with a grudge or perceived angst or too much time on his hands could rip apart my world in a second.
According to the "school shootings" entry in Wikipedia (if that indicates what kind of sickening notoriety the occurrences have gained), there have been seven school shootings in the U.S. since September. From elementary through college. Four have occurred in the past week, the most recent yesterday in at NIU in DeKalb, Ill.
And when you're not in school, where are you? At the mall, of course. Nine killed at Omaha's Westroads Mall after a shooting in Von Maur department store on Dec. 5. Five women were shot, execution-style, at Tinley Park Mall in the Chicago area earlier this month. A year ago, five were shot dead at Trolley Square mall in Salt Lake City.
Should I rant about our pathetic gun laws? Should I bemoan the effects of video games and movie violence on our youth? Should I point the finger at drugs and alcohol? How about blaming women for working outside the home? Or men for failing to instill the proper values? Or religion for alienating and shaming? Or our health care system for letting those suffering from mental illness fall through the cracks?
It all makes me tired. It makes me feel helpless and overwhelmed. So I eat dinner and check my email. And write a blog that doesn't have much of a point but feels better than doing nothing. And mourn the loss of people I don't know. People who could be my son or husband or parent or best friend. Or me.
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