Monday, December 17, 2012

Shaken to my Core by Newtown, Connecticut


The massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT seems to me like the worst case of senseless murder I've ever seen, and in my opinion, one of the worst in the history of mankind.  Don't be a fucking jerkoff and say I'm being insensitive to the victims of Pearl Harbor, 9/11, the Holocaust and the Oklahoma City bombing, for examples.  In those cases, there was an agenda.  Don't say, "Vinny, what the fuck about the Holocaust?"  Of COURSE that is one of the most horrible things that has happened in the history of mankind.  In those specific cases, which I'll use as examples, there was at least a reason.  The reasons were albeit military or completely insane ones conjured up by the minds of madmen, but there were reasons, nonetheless, for those acts.  Those examples were horrific in their own rights.  A disturbed little fuckface smashing through the locked door of an elementary school, shooting his way to a 1st grade classroom, and murdering children, who have barely had a chance to live, is the worst case of evil I can ever begin to think of.  I keep trying, without success, to wrap my head around it all.  I can't fathom the insanity of someone deliberately shooting and killing ONE seven year old.  Multiply that by 20.  Of course those aforementioned examples had body counts thousands more than what happened in Newtown.  They were also carried out by the order of faceless cowards.  In Newtown, this "man" looked into the eyes of young children and deliberately ended their lives, far sooner than they should have been ended.  It was deliberate, and needless.  There is no reason that can convince me that these innocent little children were taken from us.  The details aren't out as to exactly how the final seconds of those poor souls played out, but this is a fact:  The shooter was a remorseless coward.  As destroyed as his brain must have been to carry out such an act, it remained that way after the first child fell...after the second.....the third.  And he kept going.  Why?  That's the cliche question, but really, WHY?  Nobody on this world will ever be able to understand or wrap their heads around how this could happen.  The worst kinds of questions are the ones that have no answers.  The most frustrating outcomes to any situation, are the situations that if they were to somehow occur 100 times, they would be surreal and unfathomable all 100 times.  Why didn't this animal just go out into the woods and end his pathetic life on his own without ruining the lives of the victims, their families, their friends, their community, state, country, planet.

I can't imagine, or maybe I don't want to, the thought of the first responders who were forced to witness the carnage of the aftermath for the first time, but carrying out their jobs regardless.  How will they ever be the same after seeing that?  How will they remove the images of the still bodies of the departed children.  I don't even want to think of what the scene looked like.  These heroes battled through a sight worse than a battlefield in a war fought by men.  These were children, and my bet is that some of them had children the same age, or close to it.  What about the surviving teachers doing their best to keep their children calm, somehow finding the courage to lead the surviving children from the building while trying to keep their eyes covered, blinding them when possible to what had happened to their classmates and friends?  How did they compose themselves and think to do this when they themselves HAD to have felt pure terror.  Learning that they huddled with their students and kept them as calm as possible while shots rang out just feet away from where they were must have been the hardest thing they have ever or will ever have to do.  The bravery of the school's principal and the teachers who gave their lives, making the ultimate sacrifice, in valiant attempts to minimize the death toll that was to be carried out by a cowardly maniac is an incredible story.  I can't help but marvel at these tiny shimmers of light in what was ultimately one of the darkest days in the history of the human race.

Is there a link between acts of violence and being immortalized by having your name in a history book?  Did Hitler do what he did to have his name be remembered as one of the most feared of all time?  How many parents have named their sons Adolf since the late 1930's?  Did Osama Bin Laden's hatred for the western world cause him to carry out the worst attack on American soil in U.S. history?  Or was it for the "recognition."  What about Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris during the Columbine shooting?  What if the media doesn't give out the name of the shooters when these events take place?  Would that tiny thought in an otherwise destroyed brain prevent said person from taking out so many with him?  Does Columbine take place if those two knew for a fact nobody would know who they were?  David Koresh?  Marshall Applewhite?  Madmen who convinced people to kill themselves through brainwashing.  Did they have conviction in their beliefs, or did they just want to be remembered forever for something evil because they didn't have anything else going for them.  The Columbine shooters were two talentless fucks who would have never amounted to anything, and thus would never have been remembered when they were gone....unless.....

Would the fact that if "he" knew he wasn't going to be immortalized be the difference between him killing 26 people and himself just walking into the woods after killing his mother and just quietly off himself with one shot to his own head? Could it be that simple?  Am I trying to come up with an impossible idea to an answerless question?  Is society's need for information fueling these kids to commit these acts?  Is there any way to give information about the shooter, which is fair, while at the same time calling him John Doe?  It's not possible in today's world of social media and rival news outlets, of course.  It's just not feasible for something like this to be done, even if it would make any kind of difference.  Even if it would mean the difference between a murder suicide and a legit mass murder.

Call me one of those parents that thinks a tragedy involving young children affects me more than someone without kids. I used to HATE that. Who are you to think it affects you more than me because I don't have kids? That was my thinking, circa late 2001. But you know what? It absolutely DOES affect people with children more. That's my opinion of course, and feel free to disagree, but I've lived through horrible, senseless tragedy's and I have been much more rattled since having kids. The slaughter of 20 1st graders last week shook me to my core. And no, you can't QUITE understand the feeling if you don't have kids of your own. You can be 99.9% as upset as someone with kids, but not that .1% that parents feel. It's just an instinct your body has once there is another human being on this planet that you created, whose blood is your own. As president Obama put it, and I'm paraphrasing him, when you have a baby, it's like a piece of your heart is put out into the world, exposed, and constantly growing farther apart from you. Their comes a point where you can't be with your child every step of the way...every minute and every place you go.

Out of all of this, I'll try to end with a positive, somehow.  Everyone already knows about the heroism of police, firefighters, military...those men and women go without saying.  But there are heroes in this world that often times get overlooked.  Teachers are incredible. You have to be a special kind of person to do that job.  These people make it their livelyhood, their profession to not only instill knowledge into young minds, but to be responsible FIVE out of seven days for the children of total strangers. We put our trust in these men and women. When you hear about the acts of heroism of teachers faced with valuing the lives of children, who aren't even their own blood, over their own lives, brings me a measure of hope that at least we have good people on our side when these things happen. We're forced in this world to trust others to take care of the ones we love. We can't be with our kids 100% of the time.  If I could, I would.  It's not possible.  We have to make a living to put a house over their heads and food on their tables.  When you send your child to school, you're putting your trust in the educators responsible for not only their education, but their general well being and care. Hearing the stories of the brave principle and teachers at Sandy Hook who made the ultimate sacrifices in attempts to minimize the death toll is an incredible story to me, a shimmer of light in the darkest of days.  It makes me feel better when I send my son to school, knowing that teachers are a special breed of people who would put themselves between a madman with a gun and the children they've been charged to protect. The bravery of those people should not be forgotten in the shuffle and the sadness that ultimately defines this story.  It won't be for me, at least.  I hope others will feel the same.

I don't care how old he grows to be before my time on this planet is done, the last words my son will hear from me whenever we part for the day, whether it's tomorrow when I drop him off at school, when I put him to bed, when I put him on the bus for school, when he gets on a plane for spring break, when I say goodbye as he leaves for his honeymoon, or 40 years from now when I hang up the phone after asking how his kids are doing, will be, "I love you."













No comments:

Post a Comment