12/14/12

Just a date.  That's all I could think about for a long while after the horror of the events at Newtown, CT this past week.

4/20/99

Do you know that one?  That's the date for the shootings at Columbine.  My nephew was 8 years old and attending school in Littleton, CO.  I remember the guilty sigh of relief when I realized it was the high school that had been under siege, and not the elementary school.

But this was not my family; not this time.

4/16/07

Virginia Tech.  I can't remember how to pronounce his name, but I remember that there was a host of photos, posed shots of this young man assailant and his manifesto, all spread throughout the CNN web page.  For days, there was mourning and trying to understand what parts were connected.

I was teaching at my University and developed a plan for what I would do if someone started shooting in my building, while I was teaching.  The doors lock when they are closed.  The window on the door is shatterproof.  If everyone clustered in the middle of the room, there would be no line-to-sight.  We could shut the lights off and someone would walk right past.

But this was not my school; not this time.  And there is something reassuring about having a plan. 

Most people would have to Google those dates.  I did not.  Both of those dates are burned into my brain.  I was changed by the events of those days.  12/14/12 will be the next date to change me.  

Almost immediately, the gun control debate began.  And the debate about how well we support our mentally ill.  Violent games?  What about the "fact that we've removed God from school?"  Forgiving (briefly), Huckabee's baseline insanity, and the fact that he walked it back a bit, we're all grasping for answers.  How did this happen?  How much could we do to make it never happen again?  My heart tells me it is all of these things more than it is any one of them, with the possible exception of Huckabee's weird diatribe.   

What happened on 12/14/12 was a very special recipe designed to produce disaster.  Like most recipes that you've experienced, the big ingredients are easy to pick out: the dominant flavors.  Behind them, simpler and subtle flavors that are harder to identify.  Could that be a hint of nutmeg, you ask; you're not completely sure.  What could have possibly been the secret ingredient that set a master plan into motion?  We will never know all of the components of this recipe beyond just the big flavors that we can suss out for ourselves.  What we are always left with, after tragedies such as this, is the list of what-ifs, some half theory about what comes next, and a date that we must never forget.