Columbine. Oklahoma City. September 11th. Virginia Tech. Aurora.
The evil in the world isn’t easily explainable. The presumably safe activity of going to a movie theater is no longer safe. You can’t take for granted the simple tasks of going to work or attending class.
My son and I were on my way to my father’s house when he asked me why so many people got shot. Before his question was posed, I was thinking about the coffee I was going to drink, and he was anticipating the ice cream his Grandfather was going to give him.
I couldn’t answer his question with other than “Son, there are bad people in the world”. A pretty lame response. We can only reassure our kids that these are rare events, and that the criminals usually get taken down. Good triumphing over evil.
When my daughter was much younger and drawing pictures of airplanes crashing into buildings over ten years ago, I felt useless then, as well. How do you explain such things? As an adult, I barely comprehend them myself.
As we went into my Dad’s house, and he quickly forgot about his question. Maybe because that house is a sanctuary. Our house is his sanctuary. Our yard. There is security of sorts in this world, but it’s usually contained within.
When I was young, it seemed all we had to deal with was the terror of the Son of Sam, preying on his victims in one sweltering summer in New York City. Simpler times, right?
I’d like to take my kids on a trip to “simpler times”, so they could catch a glimpse of a time without 24/7 media coverage of mass murders, of terrorism. Where they wouldn’t have to ask the question, “Why?”
When we get there, we’d play in my grandmother’s yard, without a care in sight. We could play games in the street, without much fear of other cars. We could go back to the family farm my cousins owned, and wander in fields for hours. No one would be concerned as to where we were.
In the days of “back then”, you could go to school without running for your life. You could go to a movie without the fear of flying bullets.
You should live your life by the windshield and not the rear view mirror, but who can blame us for looking to the past for comfort? Crap, I think that’s what I do here. I write about things that provide a dose of that comfort and stability. For myself. I can throwback for decades with writing subjects like my grandparents, music, baseball, and being an inspired teenager.
Kids, it’s difficult to explain these things to you. To say that you’re growing up in a much different place than your Mom and Dad grew up in…well, that’s a vast understatement. The only steps we can take are to raise you according to our ethics, and give you the room to grow into your own version of a wonderful person.
And once you do that, just believe that people like you will always outnumber the evil guys. And from tragedy, good will come.