I Stand with Parkland

Disclaimer: This essay is written for an audience of one, me. If you have come across it and appreciated it, great. If you think I’m totally wrong, that’s great too. This is my corner of cyberspace, and I have no tolerance for hate, fallacious reasoning, logical fallacies, or cyberbullying. I respect your opinion to disagree with me; it’s what makes America great. I’ll engage in any intellectually honest debate as long as it doesn’t devolve into ad hominem attacks, etc.

I am very aware I have lived a privileged life. I know I am blessed to have only encountered gun violence three times. I know my life is in no way like that of those in communities plagued by gun violence. Unlike in the past, I am now choosing to speak up and no longer accept the status quo. Inspired by the debate started by the students of MSD, I write this essay as a reminder to myself as to how I’ve come to this moment.

Fall 1988

I remember it was a brisk Fall morning and the Phoenix summer heat had started to abate. My school was holding its annual magazine drive, and I had just collected some small prize for the subscriptions I had sold. It was my second year at this Catholic grade school. I had transferred from a public school in 6th grade. I was no longer the “new kid.” At the start of first period, the principal (an Irish nun) came to our classroom and made an announcement:

“Your classmate, Eric S. is dead. As is his brother and mother. They were shot by their father. I ask that you pray for the family and as well as the father, who has been arrested.”

It was like ice cold water was poured over us. Thirty years later, I can still hear her voice making that announcement. Many of my classmates were distraught. They had known Eric for many more years than I. The previous year I was struck how Eric made an effort to befriend the new kid and I was looking forward to our continued friendship in junior high.

In the days and weeks that followed, I remember we went thru stages of grief from anger to acceptance. I recall playground conversations where we discussed what should be done to Eric’s father. Should he die? I remember some of Eric’s closest friends in the days after his murder expressed wanting the father to experience a fate worse than death. The nuns, on the other hand, taught forgiveness and that in death Eric had returned to the Lord. I didn’t know beforehand, but apparently, there was a history of domestic abuse from the father. So I took solace in that Eric was no longer suffering.

Fall 2002

It would be another 14 years before I encountered another incident with gun violence. After finishing graduate school at the University of Arizona in 2001, I had accepted a job on campus working in distance education. On another brisk October morning, I had just returned to my office from the medical school library where I had picked up some articles. Upon entering the office, my coworkers asked if I “had seen it”. Perplexed, I responded, “seen what?” There had just been a shooting at the College of Nursing and the campus was on lockdown. I felt quite fortunate to have just left the area.

As the details emerged about the shooter and the victims, I could not mentally escape. My passion is working in higher education. The shooter was a 41-year-old male nursing student and upset with his grades. He took out his frustration on three instructors. While in graduate school two years earlier, I had a student of a similar profile who was upset with his grades. He was a “pastor” at a local church and felt I had unfairly graded him. He wrote a 4-page profanity-filled letter to the department chair complaining about his grade. The letter included no capitalization and was a single paragraph. In many ways, as a business communication course, the letter re-affirmed my evaluation. My grading was reviewed and I was told by the chair I had been too generous. For the rest of the semester, I was fearful of the mental stability of that student and my safety.

The shooting at the nursing school forced me to reevaluate my passion for teaching. At the time I was working in distance education and not in the classroom, but I longed to return to the classroom. But would I be putting my life at risk? As the shooting faded away from memory and the years passed, I would once again return to the college classroom and teach at a local community college then later back at the university.

While teaching at the NW campus of the community college, I was informed about an unstable student who had been making threats. I was never told his name out of privacy concerns, but I was told to call the campus police immediately if I saw or heard something threatening. Little did I know it at the time that student would later become the shooter of Rep. Gabby Giffords.

January 2011

On the morning of January 8th, I made a fateful decision to change my plans. I had an invitation to a housewarming potluck in the afternoon and didn’t feel I had enough time to make my dish and get a haircut. Originally, I thought I would get my haircut and stop by the Safeway on the way home. I didn’t know the Congresswoman would be holding an event at the Safeway. I’m sure if I would have seen it that I would have been in the audience to say hello.

Prior to the shooting, I had met the Congresswoman at the Marana library for an event on solar energy as well as a fundraiser for her reelection. The vote for ACA had yet to occur and she wanted to know what people thought about the bill being discussed. While I can be extroverted in the classroom and with acquaintances, I’m pretty introverted around strangers. As such, I just kept to myself, but she went out of her way to come over to me and strike up a short conversation. That left an impression upon me, as such, I am sure I would have stopped to talk with her again at the Safeway event.

Fortunately for me, I did not get a haircut and instead I made an early morning trip to Walmart to shop for the ingredients for my potluck dish. Little did I know that the shooter was at the very same Walmart buying his ammo when I was there shopping. I returned home and started working on my dish. Later in the morning, a junior high friend texted me “TURN ON CNN NOW.” Diligently I turned on the TV, and my heart sank. While they were not yet disclosing the scene of the shooting, I instantly recognized the shopping plaza and Safeway. My congresswoman had been shot, and they were unsure if she would live. After years of heated rhetoric (including a former VP candidate PAC putting the Congresswoman’s district “in the crosshairs”), someone had attempted to assassinate a US Congress member.

The potluck got canceled. I became glued to CNN and the web. The shooters name leaked out on social media before the national press would name him. Curious to learn more, I googled his name and found his disturbing YouTube channel. It was a decision I regretted. In one video he filmed himself walking around the NW campus of the community college where I had taught a few courses. It was filmed at night (when I taught) and he walked by the very classroom I had been assigned. I don’t even recall his rant on the video, just that he walked by the classroom that I taught in. Now I understand why the administrators warned us about a disturbed student. It forced me to again think about whether I wanted to continue my passion of teaching.

As with any major mass shooting in America, the national media with their satellite trucks and reporters descended upon Tucson, much like Parkland. Memorials were erected by the university hospital and Safeway. President Obama came and gave a speech to a country and community in mourning. But then over time, the events faded into distant memories. Yet again, nothing was done to change public policy and attempt to reduce gun violence.

Each year, it seems such events repeat across America and a community mourns, and nothing is done to prevent another Parkland, Vegas, San Bernadino, Malibu, etc. Albert Einstein said the definition of insanity is doing something over and over again and expecting a different result. I hope in this moment with the leadership of the students of MSD that this time is different. We do not need to repeal the 2nd amendment, but we can pass common sense gun reform. I feel truly inspired by the MSD students and the March for Our Lives movement.

I was reminded of Janet Jackson’s song from Rhythm Nation 1841 — Living in a World (They Did Not Make)

Livin’ in a world they didn’t make
Livin’ in a world that’s filled with hate
Livin’ in a world where grown-ups break the rules
Livin’ in a world they didn’t make
Payin’ for a lot of adult mistakes
How much of this madness can they take our children?