Shooting First Graders? Like Fish in a Barrel? What the Fuck? - Part 1/2

••• today's entry continues here below •••

"Whoa!" I can't quite wrap my head around that. What the fuck? (« not gratuitous, not hardly, not here).

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The Bug is 7. Maybe that is why I thot of the kids first. Cuz it's hard to ignore the similarity.

The size similarity. The adorable-ness similarity. The honesty similarity. The give-meaning-to-your-life similarity. The innocence similarity. The vulnerable similarity.

Or perhaps .. taking an empathetic step into the shoes-of-the-parent(s) .. is a place .. that remains just a place.

Seems like such a dark place. No? [ Death is a dark place. And THIS 'death' .. wow! The most horrific, unsettling, soul-disturbing thing ever. ]

In other words .. I can tell that I'm rocked. Just so you know .. that we might be entering the Twilight Zone. Fair warning.

Yep, thar she be .. dead ahead.

The Twilight Zone (.. if you've never been) .. is a place where anything goes. Shit does NOT have to make sense there.

And truth be told, you probably don't even want it to (.. for reasons we will address shortly).

But I guess it shouldnt seem strange that such a horrible thing would threaten and unsettle (rock-to-the-core) a parent ..

.. any parent .. seeing that protecting their kids is Job #1 (.. via a species-level programming, that is genetically hard-wired deep into our most fundamental circuitry).

Maybe this is why I feel this thing so deeply .. way down at that level where it feels like the species itself is threatened.

[ Can't believe I just said that .. but that's the way it feels.

Because if human beings can do *that* .. then they can do ANY thing. No? Before yesterday, I didnt know that such a thing was even possible.

Not only did I not know .. that somebody could HAVE such a thought .. I didnt even know that such a thought was possible.

Or perhaps I'm just naive. ]

You have likely heard the saying about how you can only see the stars when it's dark out .. and I have found that to be true in my own life .. to a degree.

[ In other words » sometimes you have to GO PLACES .. to see things. Think about it. ]

But I wonder if that same [ beauty-in-darkness ] paradigm applies to the parents who have lost children .. there in Newtown ..

.. under such incomprehensibly cruel circumstances. I certainly hope so. (I can only imagine what kind of dreams they might be having.)

There is something curious about parenting .. that when our kids are happy, laughing, playful .. our lives seem inexplicably content ..

.. regardless whatever obstacles life may toss our way. As tho nothing else matters.

But there is a flip-side to that parenting coin .. and it is not pretty. Not at all.

I have tried .. to put myself into the shoes of the parents who lost children there in Newtown .. and I feel » nothing. Nada.

This makes me think that I am NOT ABLE to go there. Like it's too much. I guess we all have our limits.

Dostoevsky lost his young son in 1878 (.. to epilepsy, a condition he inherited from his famous father) .. right before Fyodor started to write his famous story about Dmitri, Ivan & Alexei .. aka » the brothers Karamazov.

The father in the story is named » Fyodor .. Dostoevsky's name. In other words, he's playing the part/role of the father ..

.. or at least assuming that part as one of his roles. Either way, he has to enter-into that role/mindset. A place he no doubt had been giving serious consideration to of late ..

.. not unlike 20 fathers in Newtown tonight. At least 20. And many more around the country.

And if you know about Dostoevsky, then you know that he goes deep. And he goes deep quickly.

And he sees in the dark. And he sees very well in the dark.

And the father will be talking to his sons. And his sons will be talking to their father .. and to each other .. ABOUT their father.

The brothers will do a lot of talking. And sometimes it will be pretty. But mostly not. =/

It's funny .. how often Dostoevsky seems to turn up in the Twilight Zone. How *does* he do that?

And if Dostoevsky is here, then Kafka can't be far. [ « An example of a Rad logic ladder .. for negotiating my way thru the darkness.]

Here is the opening sentence from the novel. See if you notice any other similarities with Newtown.

"Alexei Fyodorovich Karamazov was the third son of a landowner from our district, Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov well known in his own day (and still remember among us) because of his dark and tragic death, which happened exactly thirteen years ago and which I shall speak of in its proper place."

It's no big secret that the plan-of-salvation itself is very much a father/son thing. So the weighty gravity of the brothers is never far. You can feel it .. instinctively. The generations speak .. and not always nicely. =)

Have you ever heard the Cat Stevens song » Father & Son? [ Lyrics. ] What makes this song so cool .. is that Cat sings BOTH parts .. both the father's part and the son's part (.. just like Dostoevsky does).

Oh, score! Here's a 2007 version .. so you can actually compare and contrast the song sung when he was young .. and then when he was old. First when he was a son .. and later when he was a father. And a grandfather. The same song. Very cool.

I feel like Turgenev [ tur-GEN-yev ] is going to come walking thru the door at any moment. =) Another nineteenth century Russian.

The Russians certainly arent afraid .. to get off the porch.

Critics say the loss-of-his-son had a "profound effect" on Dostoevsky's writing, and therefore on the novel.

Fuel to burn. Lots of it. Gotta burn up the grief/angst/suffering/despair somehow or other. Or it will eat you alive.

Running is my default grief-burner. Run until the hurt stops .. until I no longer feel the psychic throbbing. Might be a while, tho. You get in shape, quickly and easily. The pounds fall off. No appetite. (Booze only makes the pain worse. It's a 'toxin'.)

I want to do something for them .. for those families in Newtown .. perhaps send them a card. If I just write "Sandy Hook Elementary School Memorial. Newtown, CT" on the card .. I'm sure it will get there. 06482

{ Dad would sometimes let me stay up late .. if I would watch the Twilight Zone with him. I have jokingly told friends .. that THAT is the reason why I am the way I am. "Not my fault, mon." =) }

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The shooter's mom [ who he shot in the face ] substitute-taught kindergarten there. [ Update - maybe she didnt work there .. but uh, she DID get shot in the face (4 times). ]

We try to understand the mind set that can lead to tragedies such as this, so we can better recognize the telltale signs .. so we have a better shot at thwarting such nation-rattling horror in the future ..

.. and as a way to say, 'sorry' to those kids .. for letting such a horrible thing happen to them. "We'll fix it. In your honor. Promise. Honest injun."

But I can't get there .. how someone could even *think* of such a thing.

I mean, if I found myself in a place where they told me, "You have to shoot this little kid, or we shoot you."

I don't see how I could do it. [ Who wants to live in a world like that, anyway? ] "Shoot me now, dude."

Even if they told me, "We'll shoot you, THEN the kid."

I'd tell the kid, "We're going to a better place. I'll be waiting for you there."

How could a person, who did something like that, ever live with them self? That would be a good trick, no? (Tho it seems that 'living' is never the goal.)

What kind of torment can drive a person to even CONSIDER doing something like that? Why not just kill yourself? (Like Hemingway did.) Or confine your killing to the person or persons who you feel caused that torment?

Why a whole classroom of full first graders? There is obviously something that I'm not getting here. Nana says I never will get it. Speaking of Nana...

» Hitting Close to Home .. in More Ways than One

I grew up in Connecticut, close to Newtown. We sometimes played them in football. They were always good (.. but rarely good enough).

And not far Choate, where the likes of people such as JFK went, and Glenn Close and Michael Douglas and Paul G, who was born in New Haven.

Connecticut born-n-raised I be .. and somewhat fancy the notion ..

.. to be from a place .. where people have heart, and are known as such.

Warm. Jokers. Belly laughers. Throw-your-head-back-belly-laughers.

Fun loving.

I'm talking about New Haven county. 'New England' starts north of New Haven county (I've heard it said).

Yale is in New Haven. (My brother went to Yale.) I delivered the New Haven register (paperboy) for 4 years [ages 11-14]. Sundays, too.

That sucker was heavy, dawg. And it gets freaking-cold there during the winter. Froze my butt off. Fingers, too. [ 'The Register' btw, has a page dedicated to » Newtown. ]

Free concerts on the Green every weekend during the summer. Big names. Very cool. Lots of people.

I especially liked West Haven. That was my haunt, where friends (such as Julio & Anna Banana) & girlfriends (such as Miss Kristen Carter) lived.

I lived in a suburb on that side, so West Haven was close. Fifteen or twenty minutes. And those back-country roads thru Woodbridge were gorgeous (.. specially in autumn).

If you fancy the main roads, then Route 34 will take you all the way from Sandy Hook, over the Stevenson Dam (which forms Lake Zoar) as you hug the Housatonic and pass by Indian Well .. then dump you right into downtown New Haven. It's a nice drive. Very nice.

That's the way I went every time I visited Nana .. when I was working at the Indian Point Nuclear plant about 90 minutes away in New York ..

.. yeah, right there on the Hudson river line .. that Billy Joel sings about .. while being in a New York State of Mind. [ The drive to Nana's took me right thru Sandy Hook. ]

And if you go to New Haven, it would be a sin not to stop at Pepe's. [ Reagan used to go there when he was President, Secret Service and all. ] If the wait at Pepe's is too long, then walk down the street to Sally's. Best pizza you've ever had.

Everybody there in New Haven had a nickname .. such as "the Hippie," "Poncho," and "Charlie-Charlie" (.. who could give an eardrum-busting "Whoo-hoo!" louder than anybody you've ever heard).

» Going Dancing with a Group of Friends in New Haven Clubs

We'd go out at night with a large group, dancing in New Haven clubs on the weekends. The rule was » everybody must dance the first song when we arrive .. whether you liked the song or not.

The girls would fill a table with their bags as they passed by. Soon as we hit the floor .. everybody else came up, too. Then we had no room left to dance comfortably. (We'd have to resort to the classic sardine-can-elbow-shuffle.) Stupid rule, but it certainly livened up places.

I have LIVED IN more than a dozen states over the years .. and visited many more [.. including territories such as Puerto Rico and Guam .. "where America's day begins" ] ..

.. which gives me a decently-respectable vantage point from which to compare and contrast.

You normally have to LIVE in a place for a while .. in order to get in and among the locals .. which, of course, is how you get a 'feel' for a place.

Plus I spent six years in the military .. in which I met and LIVED WITH people from all over the country ..

.. and a shot of tequila works wonders .. to loosen the tongue and dispense with superficial formalities. [ And who ever stops at just one shot? "Let's go rap to Jose," they would say. ]

Tho clearly I am biased. And besides .. the word 'Connecticut' is fun to say. An Indian name. Lots of Indian names there in Connecticut. Pomperaug. Narragansett. Naugatuck.

Didnt leave until I was 18, when I enlisted in the Navy's Nuclear Power Program. (Mom was crying as the recruiter drove me away that cold, rainy morning.)

My family lives in zip-code » 06483; Sandy Hook is » 06482. One digit away. We're talking a bucolic community (.. much nicer and far more affluent than the one in which I grew up).

[ My cousin was a state trooper there; I used his name to get out of a speeding ticket late one night, while coming home from work.

"Why does this name sound familiar to me?" the trooper asked, staring at my driver's license .. illuminted with a flashlight .. somewhere around midnight. ]

The neighboring school where another cousin's son attends went into lock-down yesterday. [ He said that they told the kids that a rabid raccoon had been seen loose on the playground. ]

He says that they will have to close that school .. that the kids won't want to go back there. The new school where the surviving Sandy Hook students will go is "five minutes away" from where his son currently goes. [ Nana's grandson. ]

» The Slide Continues

The feeling I got when I heard the news from Newtown .. was the SAME feeling I got ..

.. when I heard the news about how congresswoman Gabby Giffords had been shot in the head .. at point-blank range (last year) .. by some gun-toting psycho.

Following that shooting, I posted an entry titled » Our Long Slow Slide .. into the Drink [ dated Jan 17, 2011 ] ..

.. which recounts an experience I had during a school class-trip .. to Indian Well state park.

The river that runs thru Indian Well [ the Housatonic .. the famous 'drink' ] .. as you can see .. comes straight down from Newtown / Sandy Hook. A stone's-throw away. (Too close for comfort.)

So yesterday's slaughter of a score of first graders at Sandy Hook Elementary made me feel like .. our long slow slide continues.

[ Pause for effect. ]

» Tragedy Clarifies Priorities

I always try to look for the good in any tragedy .. difficult as that might seem.

I think it's my way of coping » "What might I learn from this mess?" (The geek way of approaching tragedy.)

The good thing about such tragic slopes .. is that they clarify priorities.

You can rest assured that nobody in Newtown today is fretting over leaves that havent been raked or carpets that need vacuuming or laundry that hasnt been washed.

I doubt that many residents of Newtown are worried today about the Fiscal Cliff or the debt-ceiling debate.

The storms-of-life come to us all. During such times, priorities become remarkably clear. The rest falls away as unimportant. As mere trifles. Superfluous trifles.

Tragedies have a way of reminding us .. that few things in life really matter, but that most of it doesn't. Things that seemed all-important yesterday suddenly disappear. Vaporize. Poof!

And I firmly believe that the sooner we learn this, the better. (The deathbed is not the place to learn this lesson. That's too late.)

Much of life is just noise, just static. (Too much of it.) Easy for the noise to drown out the music. Too easy. (Much too easy.)

When your heart is broken, you always know that .. it is going to be a while .. before you are okay again. Probably a long while.

I don't personally know those families who lost children in Newtown yesterday .. but I *do* know that .. they'd trade everything .. to have their Little Ones back in their arms again.

Every thing. (Gladly.) Priorities. Clarity. Bingo.

» President Obama Addresses the Nation from Newtown

Update 16 dec - Wow. You won't believe the long string of unexpected, quirky events that happened / transpired today ..

.. in order for me to watch Obama's national address [ broadcast live during the Patriots-49er football game ] from Newtown .. with the Bug SITTING ON MY LAP.

Oh. My. Gawd.

It would take too long .. to describe the series-of-quirks that needed to materialize .. but uh, I had a feeling like ..

.. like the Universe wanted me to watch that address » with my son. Sitting there » On. My. Lap.

It was at this taco joint, no less .. where we had front row seats at the TV .. which made it seem like .. we were there in Newtown (with the Prez .. sitting in the audience).

Today was not even a normal day that I have the Bug. Very unlikely .. the way things worked out. Things out of my control .. all just fell together. So many things. (Consecutively, it seems. Not simultaneously.)

Tho I'm not sure why. It's late [ Sunday night, almost midnight ]. I'm tired. Long day. I'll write more tomorrow.

I would not have planned it like that .. even if I could. But it was powerful (straight-to-the-core) and emotional .. in a profound and nearly-overwhelming way ..

.. listening to the President address the nation .. with the Bug sitting there on my lap .. cradling him .. as he played with his new Christmas toys ..

.. with the President speaking from Newtown .. a stone's throw from where I grew up. [ I live in California now. ]

So it felt like it was bigger-than-me. And in that respect, it seemed a little scary .. especially since the subject was not very cheery.

I did not know that Obama would be speaking at that time .. on that particular station .. nor did I have control over the channel (.. selected by the employees who worked there at the taco joint.). Like I said, we were watching the football game.

» Parental Gratitude

I don't want this to sound disrespectful (cuz it's not) .. but uh, I was feeling *grateful* .. that he was not one of the 20 .. and that I was able to hold him in my arms at that time. Very grateful. (Very.)

So I feel like I have some insight into what the parents of the surviving children from that school felt like during the president's address.

I can totally relate to the photo of that mother holding her boy ..

.. because even a dream about losing your kid .. can be terrifying .. in a primal sort of way. In a way that goes beyond our ability to comprehend.

Without thinking I found myself planting an endless stream of kisses on his head (.. that I doubt he even noticed).

Don't think I didnt catch that the kids who were slaughtered there at Sandy Hook Elementary were the SAME AGE as the Bug. [ He's 7. ]

And if you're a regular here, then you know that I'm all over Isaiah 54:13 .. on a regular basis. "Dear God, do NOT let me screw this up. Whatever it takes." [ Remember the nightmares? I do. ]

It got real quiet there .. in the Taco Joint (.. despite being full of people) .. when the President began to speak. Strangely quiet. The owner turned up the volume on the wall-mounted flat-screen. (Beautiful picture. Luscious colors.)

» Suffer Little Children

I mean, I normally wouldnt want the Bug to watch something like that. And he didnt seem to get the gist of what was being said.

[ For Christmas I got him a Skylanders Giants starter kit for Nintendo Wii. And he was playing with the three characters that came with it. ]

But I had just shifted him on my lap .. during the football game, waiting for his mom to come pick him up (.. thanks for being late, mom) .. from facing straight away with me to a side-cradle hold. [ I've been missing him like crazy lately .. not having seen him for two weeks. Two-and-a-half. ]

[ He *loved* that Skylanders kit. You can always tell when kids *really* like something. Both his arms shot straight up .. in the universal symbol to signify » "Touchdown! Score!"

So of course, I was super-happy .. that he was so happy. (I think Santa is bringing the Wii itself.) ]

I think Obama misused some of his early scriptural references .. in the beginning of his message. God does not "call home" little kids. No. Rather He says, "With LONG LIFE will I satisfy him."

Hard to miss the detail that Jesus was alive .. when he said "Let the little ones come .. forbid them not". No?

» Horror Unspeakable

In other words, the kids didnt have to die .. in order for Him to lay his hands on them.

[ Notice how this woman here » is laying-her-hands-on her son.

You figure she might be feeling thankful right about now?

Notice how the boy is covering his nose and mouth.

That's the way little kids react to horror unspeakable. ]

In other words, I think Obama tried to pawn-off on God shit that we as a nation need to address .. regarding our kids .. particularly the priority we give them.

[ Good thing I'm not God .. cuz If I Were, I wouldnt much appreciate that shit. ]

I'm talking about WHY we seem to think it's okay to continue to steal from our kids. To steal their future .. in more ways than one.

While a small slice of Americans continue to grow more and more fabulously wealthy. Accumulating more wealth than anyone could possibly spend .. in 10 life-times.

And the SY$TEM that makes this possible .. is BY DESIGN. Because the SY$TEM owns our political representatives .. that's right .. they OWN the folks who write the Laws of the Land.

In other words, that's what you get when you let the foxes write the rules that govern our nation's financial henhouse.

You get a small slice of fabulously wealthy private folks and (somehow, almost magically, it seems) an enormous national debt .. growing VERY FREAKING FAST [.. to be left for our kids to pay. Called "the public". What. Thee. Fuck? ].

And the thing that nobody can deny .. is that every day it continues, the ditch gets bigger .. making it MORE DIFFICULT for our kids to climb out of.

Heck, even the Statue of Liberty herself is starting to ask » "What thee fuck?"

Does that not have the stench of immorality all over it?

Next time you happen to see a Senator .. tell him, "Just because people want to GIVE you crack .. doesnt necessarily mean that you have to smoke it."

Now if *that* aint a coincidence .. then I don't know what is. Cuz there are only a small percentage of Americans .. who think that kind of shit is okay. Very small. About 1%. And even many of them are starting to ask, "What the fuck?"

Tell me I'm wrong. I dare you. Cuz them be the facts. The sad facts .. as everybody knows.

A California surfer standing on the beach at Trestles, an hour before his Ethics class starts at the local community college might put it this way » "Dude, that is SO not cool.'"

I find it telling .. that the enormity of our national debt that we continue to ring up at a mind-blowing rate and are leaving for our children to pay .. struck my consciousness only as I sought to comprehend the size of the universe.

That's right, Buzz. The universe. "To infinity and beyond."

» The Question of National Priorities

But while we're here, let's ask the question » what are our national priorities? Or perhaps an easier question » What are not? Do the priorities of our elected officials represent the priorities of the we-the-people?

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Even if it makes the folks who are Grieving feel better .. those kinds of things shouldnt be said. Blaming God for our problems is the pussy-way out.

Let's take responsibility ourselves .. and stare into the abyss of our National Soul and ask "What-the-Fuck?" .. and then go belly up to the beast we find lurking there.

Sure, we might get clawed. Probably will. [Maybe even more than once.] But what choice do we have? What real choice?

If you're scared, then say you're scared. Do I have to go alone? [ If I don't see you there, dawg, then I'll know you pussied-out. ]

» Sometimes You Just Gotta Do Shit

Sometimes you gotta do shit .. even when you KNOW .. that you will get your ass kicked.

This is obviously one of those times.

Because Malachi suggests that God Himself will "come and smite the land with a curse" .. if the hearts of the fathers are not right toward their children.

Now I dont know what all that "smiting" entails .. but I know it doesnt sound good.

And it's awfully difficult to have a right relationship with somebody from whom you're stealing. No?

Turn on your analytical mind and check out the next sentence » "No, we don't want anybody shooting first graders in their classrooms .. but rob blind their whole generation? No, I see no problem there."

I can only build the logic ladders (.. in the best and clearest way I know). I can't make you climb. The sooner you climb, the quicker I can quit.

Cuz I don't want any of your lightning bolts getting off on me. Don't say you werent warned.

I mean, if you *really* wanna make the Grieving parents feel better ..

.. and thwart the next such Tragedy .. from breaking even more parents' hearts ..

.. and not just say pretty words .. that don't mean jack-shit.

What does this tragedy say about our nation? Because it's not the first time that this kind-of-shit has happened.

Nor the second. Or the third. (Uh, to be honest, I'm starting to lose count.)

What lies at the heart of the problem? More than guns. It's like the soul-of-the-nation is crying out.

I say our National Soul has embraced values and priorities .. that are fucked-up .. particularly where our kids are concerned.

I guess 'corrupted' would be a more clinical term. Priorities 'misplaced' .. would be the nice way to say it. 

What do you say?

You don't need me to tell you that something is wrong. Clearly wrong. Seriously wrong.

And it's not just Newtown, either. Newtown was merely the smack-of-clarity that clocked us upside the head. "Oh, I see. Yes, something is fucked-up here. Definitely."

Cuz it seems to me .. that the SY$TEM [ not the parents ] only 'cares' about our kids .. to the extent that they can continue to tap their credit card .. .. and to the extent that our kids PAY the debt that they run up on their credit card.

I don't want us to be known as the "generation who stole from their kids" .. who stole their kids' future. [ Cuz .. *that* would be fucked up. Really fucked-up. ]

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But Obama's wrap, after he quoted Jesus .. then named the kids. All 20. Just their first names. I had fight back the tears. That was some sad shit. Seriously sad. (While cradling the Bug.)

That was done deftly. (Surprisingly so.)

What can you say? .. that would ease their pain? But that doesnt mean we shouldnt try.

He tried. (He's good at that I-feel-your-pain stuff. Empathy.) He has two young girls .. so I'm sure he can relate.

[ Speaking of Obama .. "Dude, uh, I mean, 'Mr. President' .. you totally want Walter to do your bio. You are history .. and history needs to be treated with respect .. which means » fairly and honestly.

Have him over for some of that yummy White House tea-n-crumpets that we've heard so much about. And we wanna know all the DIRT, too. So make it good-n-juicy.

Walter will kick ass." ]

For sure, parents everywhere today were focusing more on their children .. taking them less for granted. All day today. Everywhere I went. (I saw it myself.)

Everybody everywhere were "suffering little children" .. and it was a beautiful thing.

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