No Longer an Ordinary City

A week ago, Dayton, Ohio was an ordinary city. El Paso, Texas was an ordinary city. Now they have the unenviable position of joining a long list of communities across the United States forever scarred by a split second of time. Columbine. Newtown. Parkland. Sutherland Springs. Aurora. Las Vegas. Nickel Mines. Fort Hood. Orlando. Binghamton. Blacksburg. El Paso. Dayton.

In today’s rapidly evolving news cycle, a week can seem like a century, as headline stories from yesterday are quickly replaced by the next tragedy, the next outrageous comment, the next scandal, and yes, even the next mass shooting. Last Saturday, El Paso had less than twelve hours in its anguished spotlight before it was forced to share its bloody fame. Reading about the Ohio massacre, I felt the now awfully familiar shiver through my body, the lump in my throat. How could this have possibly happened again? 

Many words have been spoken and written this week, words that stir up fear, seek to place blame, or express shock – not again. I’ve heard two common themes in those words (among others). The first is a collective thread of horror and grief. Red or blue, Democrat, Republican or other, brown, black, white – only a tiny, tiny radical fringe is glad that Skylin, Victoria and two-month-old Paul were orphaned in El Paso, or that a Dayton grandmother must tell seven-year-old Hannah that her mother will never come home. We may not have known the thirty-one people who were killed, or the scores more injured, but we grieve nonetheless at the senseless loss of life. Regardless of our political views or socio-economic status, we want the same thing: we want those we love to be safe, and we want our own lives to be protected when we go to Wal-Mart, to dinner, or to worship in our synagogue, church or mosque.

The second familiar theme comes in the form of a question. What can be done to stop this? And, more personally, my Sunday morning plea: “What can I do?” The temptation is to sink into a sea of hopelessness, of helplessness, and decide we can do nothing. That’s a choice I’m unwilling to make. 

That’s why I’m grieving those who died. I’m looking at their pictures, reading their life stories, and remembering.

I’m joining with others who are asking the same questions. Everytown for Gun Safety, Moms Demand Action, the Center for Non-Violence at Ashland University are some options.

I’m working hard to listen to those whose views are different from mine, without the “yes, but . . .” response I’m so used to taking.

I’m educating myself. What’s happening in Columbus? What about the governor’s proposal? What do the scientists, researchers, and experts say? What has helped?

I’m speaking out. I’m asking my elected representatives, city, state and federal, to take this issue seriously, to schedule hearings, and to allow bills to come to the floor for a vote.

And, because I’m a writer, I’m writing about this topic, even though I’d rather not. The question raised by Margaret Sullivan of the Washington Post is convicting: “Can the news media manage to become part of the solution to this mind-numbing curse?” Media and moms, we all have a horse in this race. No city is safe; no place is sacred.

Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times has often written about a paradigm shift, from heated political discussion to reframing as a public health crisis. Shortly after the slaughter of five and six-year-old children in 2012, Kristof pleaded: “So let’s treat firearms rationally as the center of a public health crisis that claims one life every twenty minutes. The United States realistically isn’t going to ban guns, but we can take steps to reduce the carnage.” In 2015, he observed, “To protect the public, we regulate toys and mutual funds, ladders and swimming pools. Shouldn’t we regulate guns as seriously as we regulate toys?”

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” Edmund Burke’s words, famously quoted by John Fitzgerald Kennedy, challenge me, as does the Nike slogan: “Just do it.” Preach, protest, prophesy or pray, march, vote, sing, speak. It is time.