Time to stop the violence of convenience

Many of you know I used to be a newspaper columnist in Northern Los Angeles County. I wrote about random things and issues that affected my community. Sometimes I polled my colleagues in the newsroom for materials, like for this one that contrasted our attitudes with a current news story …….

 

“Damn it! If that kid leaves the garage door open one more time, I’m taking away his keys.”

“There was a girl crouched beneath a desk in the library and the guy came over and said ‘Peek a boo’ and shot her.”

“That drama teacher is so hard on them. She kept them late again.”

As students took a math test, the door opened and a teacher staggered in, covered in blood. He was shot right in front of them.

“Why can’t you be more responsible? Pick up your room. Do I look like your maid?”

“He was shot twice. In the back. My brother jumped over him to get out.”

“I’m not going to make my child wear a uniform. That stifles their creative expression.”

“You should be safe at school. This should be a safe place.”

“No, I’m not getting up to give you a ride to school. You should have set your alarm.”

“We were just sitting in the room, praying. Some people were crying. We were thinking, ‘We’re in here, come rescue us.’ I heard a boy cry, ‘Please, don’t shoot me,” then another voice and a gunshot.”

“I’m too busy to come to your game. Can you get a ride home with somebody on the team?”

“Our teacher was so awesome. She helped us so much, she kept such a cool head, even though she was going through the same thing. Her husband was a teacher in the next room and she couldn’t get to him.”

“I just don’t understand your friends. They dress so weird.”

“He put a gun in my face and said ‘I’m doing this because people made fun of me last year.’”

“Don’t bother me now. I’m watching my show.”

“Her name is not on any list. They don’t know where she is.”

“Where do you think the money is going to come from? Get a job!”

A sign held up in a window read: Help. I’m bleeding to death.

“I’ve told you time and time again, the dishes are your responsibility. I’m sick of having to play cop.”

“My sister. He went back to get my sister.”

“If you were where you were supposed to be and doing what you were supposed to, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I thought it was a prank for morning announcements. But when I saw how big the gun was, then I knew. I know it had to be real.”

“How many times have I told you, my messages are important. And is that phone permanently attached to your ear?”

“Somebody yelled, ‘Everybody in the room leave now.’ We thought it was a fire.”

“I’ve been through more bomb drills than fire drills. We’ve all been taught to get down and stay down, because it there’s bombs, there might be guns.”

“They were just like ‘We’ve waited to do this our whole lives.’ And every time they’d shoot someone, they’d holler, like it was exciting.”

“We have 2,500 students here at this school. Counselors can’t spend very much time with each one.”

“I wrote goodbye notes to my parents, my sister and my little brother, because I left before he got up… ‘I hope I haven’t taken your love for granted … I’m glad I was the one to go through this and not you … I love you. I hope every time you hear this, it grows in meaning.’”

“We hardly ever see each other anymore, with our crazy schedules. It’s a big deal for us to sit down to dinner together.”

“It still hasn’t sunk in. We hear Columbine High School and I think, “Whoo, hey, I go here.’ I remember thinking, ‘I’m so glad I’m safe here.’”

Bye, honey, I love you. Have a good day at school.

 

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Anguished parents reunite with their students at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Florida after a gunman killed 17 on campus. Image: CNN

When I wrote the column above, which was published in The Signal newspaper in April 1999, my message was one of perspective. Did we appreciate our kids? Did we ever consider what our last words to them might be? Could we even wrap our heads around the concept of school shootings? Columbine, in all its horror, introduced a reality that we swore we’d never accept.

 

Oh, how wrong we were.

 

Yesterday, 17 people died at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. Teachers. Coaches. Students who will never grow up and achieve greatness because a disgruntled 19-year-old student was able to walk into a gun store and purchase an AR-15 assault rifle, then revisit his former campus and fulfill a prophecy he promoted on social media.

 

Florida law does not allow 19-year-olds to buy beer. They can, however, purchase murder weapons with no problem.

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This is the AR-15 weapon used by the suspect in the Parkland, FL school shooting. It was purchased with the same ease as one would buy a soda and candy bar. Image: Time.com

There were warning signs with the suspect. We preach “See something, say something,” but when are we going to take it further than lip service? We know that shootings – not just in schools, but churches, movie theaters and concert venues – are a problem, but what are we doing about it? Now, there are 17 shattered families planning funerals because there is a large group of people who value the right to own firearms more than the rights of human beings to live. (To learn more about the victims of the Parkland shootings, visit http://amp.miamiherald.com/news/local/community/broward/article200220844.html)

 

My hope is that this blog gets at least 24 hours of airtime before there is another incident like this one.

 

Eighteen years ago, I was trying to make us think twice about how we treat each other. Today, I have the same motive, but the ennui makes me sick to my stomach. That column should have been a standalone, an unusual situation that happened once in a blue moon, but yesterday’s shooting was the 18th in 2018 alone. Today’s journalists are writing those stories and columns again. School shootings have become so routine that there is practically a template for them.

 

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Image: WBBJ-TV

There is something we can do, without removing the Second Amendment to the Constitution. Require responsible gun ownership. Require safety classes and security measures that keep guns away from easy access. We can restrict access to firearms to those with mental illnesses or prior convictions. We can require background checks at EVERY juncture of a firearm purchase, and the same for ammunition. We can eliminate the availability of assault weapons and those that carry more than six bullets. There is absolutely no justifiable reason for civilians to have these kinds of weapons, period.

 

The change must also happen with our elected officials. Instead of hand-wringing, use those hands to call, write, email, contact your elected officials (find them here: https://www.house.gov/representatives/find-your-representative and ask them to force the discussion of the nation’s safety across all party lines. Your state legislators can make changes too. Tell them to make assault rifles harder to get than a license to drive a car. Tell them that 17 dead is 17 too many for us to accept. Fight the resignation that “there’s nothing we can do.” If your officials are in the pockets of the National Rifle Association (and by association, gun manufacturers), vote them out of office in favor of candidates who will take a stand and protect our citizens. If you want to get involved in gun control political action, check out https://everytown.org, an umbrella group that works to promote positive gun safety.

 

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This formation used to mean “Conga!” – but now it is burned into every student’s brain to mean “my hands are up, I have no weapon, please let me get out of here safely.” Image: USA Today

It’s time. It’s time to have the discussions NOW. It’s past time to stop the violence of convenience – where murder weapons are as easy to get as a Slurpee.

 

Because we all deserve to tell our kids “Bye. I love you. Have a good day at school.”

 

Carol Rock is a writer based in the Los Angeles area. She is an award-winning journalist with more than 20 years experience covering all areas of news and features. She works as a freelance public relations and media consultant, with writing remaining her strong suit. Her tattoo, if it were real, would read “Don’t Die Wondering.”

Your comments are welcome and always appreciated. Please share this on social media!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Little Squishy Changed My Life

So it’s been awhile since I’ve been here. I really have to work on that. Sorry.

It’s been a little busy in my universe.

We became grandparents. I watched my granddaughter come into the world with my very own eyes and am still in amazement of the miracle. Grandparenting is everything my friends told me it would be – and then some. Holy crap, what an adventure!

The day she was born was crazy enough, starting with a 6:30 am call of “time to ride” and her arrival around Starbucks time midafternoon. Our oldest daughter spent 8 hours on the freeway making the normally 5-hour trip between Sacramento and Orange County to get to her sister’s side. I watched her anxiety melt away as she sat next to the new mama’s pillow and held her swaddled niece.IMG_0006

My “Free Gift With Purchase Son,” the new uncle also known as my son-in-love’s brother, proudly wore his Mickey Mouse ears that read “Uncle Travis” over his Kings cap as he strode proudly into the room.

Two of their friends who I consider my children from other mothers fought the traffic as well, arriving just soon enough to spend an hour before it was time to tiptoe out to the parking lot. One great-grandmother, four grandparents, two siblings, two friends – good thing it was a big room.

Have I mentioned Sadie Jane is just peaches? We call her Squishy.

What a day. What a whack to the normal orbit.

Along with the world-changing event of her birth, we had holidays.

Her first Thanksgiving was less than a week after she came into the world, surrounded by family. Preparing for her first Christmas. Decorating. Cooking. Getting work done so I could kick back for a couple of weeks. Feeding a house full of people, more than once, during that magical week.

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Sadie’s first Christmas turned out to be the most perfect Christmas our family has ever experienced. All my cubs were home – our son from Virginia, who fell so hard in love with his niece that I saw his heart blossom right before my eyes, our daughter from Sacramento making it  home in the normal 5 hours this time and of course, the sleep-deprived, but blissfully happy new parents, my youngest daughter and son-in-love and Sadie.

Group (85 of 100) copyAfter the dinner dishes were cleared, the guests departed and it was just the principal cast left in the living room watching a Christmas music concert, you could feel the love. Seriously.

Thick enough to envelope all of us. Strong enough to make every motion hesitant. Nobody wanted to be the first to get up, because it would bring the inevitable round of endless goodbyes.

And tears. We are shameless criers.

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What magic. What a great visit. And what a welcome new beginning.

 

Running quietly beneath this was a subplot, something I’ve been working on all year that was finally coming into focus. But that’s a story that I’ll unfold on another page. This one is too perfect.

 

Coming Soon: Grandparenting 101

The ears that debuted at NASCAR. As the granddaughter of a Bawdy Broad, she already has a boa
The ears that debuted at NASCAR. As the granddaughter of a Bawdy Broad, of course she already has a boa!

Have I mentioned that I’m going to be a grandmother soon?

Really soon. Like doing everything in the OC “because that’s where the hospital is” soon.

Yikes.

Children do more than just eat, sleep, go to school, get jobs and eventually move out. They make us do things that challenge us. We didn’t travel much until our son joined the Army and his graduation was on the other side of the country. I got to see Canada and New York as a choir chaperone and my oldest daughter lives four and a half hours north of here – a quick trip that lends itself to the impromptu.

I never thought I would like racing, especially NASCAR, until I went with my daughter and son-in-love, but I was there with the rest of the family last February when they made us close our eyes so they could put Mickey Mouse ears embroidered with “Arriving 2015” in our hands, followed by lots of joyful screaming and crying. There were a bunch of cars going in circles for the few hours after that, but I didn’t really notice the race….

I will have to revise my resume within the next couple of weeks, inserting the title “Sadie Jane’s Grandma” over the formerly-more-important “Media Consultant.” All of my friends tell me that things are going to be wonderful and that I’ll have trouble concentrating when this little bundle is placed in my arms. I believe them because I’m already bumfuzzled when I think about her.

I really try to minimize the advice dispensing, sharing just one tidbit with new parents as I admire their little ones: Love them the most when they deserve it the least. I truly believe it’s the policy we used the most, raising our three. They all turned out pretty good and two of them can’t wait to be called Aunt and Uncle.

The adventure continues! Not feeling quite Shirley McLaine yet, but I'm gonna be a GRAMMA!
The adventure continues! Not feeling quite Shirley McLaine yet, but I’m gonna be a GRANDMA!

But now that it’s my own daughter becoming a mother, I worry – have I told her enough? Did I give her enough clues to survive the long sleepless nights or the endless stream of people trying to tell them the best ways to do everything? Have I shared my thoughts on the best way to swaddle, the perfect way to hold a bottle, the tried and true techniques to get them to go down for a nap?

Nope. Have I failed? Absolutely not. They’ve got this.

You’ll find that no one has all the answers, but the truth is out there. The key is that nobody can figure it out but you.

When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I was taking classes at Cal State LA and my advisor said that he and his wife should have been arrested when they left the hospital with their first child because they had no idea what they were doing.

He told me that I’d figure it out and he was right.

One kid liked the football carry that my husband perfected when she was colicky. My son sang himself to sleep when he was nursing. And the Mom-to-Be was my cuddle bunny. I learned to lower my housekeeping standards because my kids were the priority. And I appreciated every carrot-and-raisin salad dropped off by a friend and every load of laundry done by my awesome Mother-In-Love who came in and took care of everything so we could catch our breath.

When my kids were little, we had to rely on a few dog-eared books written by another generation’s Dr. Spock. Now you can Google ‘diaper rash,’ ‘fussy eater’ and when to go to the hospital depending on what they put up their nose/swallowed/stuck in their ear (and yes, I had personal experience with at least two of those).

So kids, here’s the truth: Parenting is the greatest adventure. You will never feel overwhelming love like you will when you first see Sadie and hold her in your arms. And when you have more, don’t worry – you always have enough, because your heart grows a little more every time.

You will never sleep as well as you used to, though. Even when they start sleeping through the night, you will walk in and angel-touch their backs to feel their warmth and gentle exhale. As they get older, you will listen for mischief and mysterious nighttime noises. And once they start to go out, driving or dating or are just out for the night, you will sleep with one eye open because you’re waiting for that front door to open and hear them talking, safe at home. Sirens take on a whole new meaning, because when you hear one, you will immediately think about where your kids are and worry if they are OK.

And even though you might get creaky with advancing years, when you hear a little voice say “Mommy” in the middle of the night, you will fly, your feet never touching the ground, as you rush to comfort your crying child. (Ask your sister about that one)

It’s almost impossible to break children, and you will get the hang of parenting through your own trial and error. Give yourselves enough time to figure out what works best for your team. Don’t let anyone push or criticize you.

It is also completely permissible to scoop up the baby and leave the room for a sanity break. I’m pretty sure that move kept me out of jail a few times.

Another cool thing about having a baby around the house? Most of the time they smell terrific. They are always happy to see you and holding them will lower your stress level, guaranteed. However, if they are having a crying jag and you’re ready with your own flood of tears, it is OK to either join the pity party or hand them off to someone else who might just be a baby whisperer. Don’t be angry that you couldn’t calm them. Be thankful that you got the break.

And when they are being really, really loud, try being really quiet when you talk to them. They’ll stop crying to hear what you’re saying. Reverse psychology was a religion in which I frequently dabbled.

When people come by to visit, don’t feel like you have to entertain them. Your lives just turned upside down and you’re entitled to a little survivor shock. They should be bringing you Tito’s Tacos and desserts from Porto’s and taking away the trash. Remember, you have a baby. That’s like having a hall pass for a messy house for at least five years.

Like I said before, you’ve got this. You’re going to be fine. Sadie’s the luckiest kid in the world to have the two of you as parents and when you have questions, ask everybody and average out the answers.

Welcome to parenthood. But remember to be patient with us because, even as you hold little Sadie swaddled in her hospital blanket, consider that in that moment, all four of us grandparents may still see you as the beautiful bundles of happiness that taught us so much about life not that many years ago.

Love you.

Mama Casey and Daddy Tim practice for a walk on Main Street. Photo by createandcapturephotography.com
Mama Casey and Daddy Tim practice for a walk on Main Street at the Happiest Place On Earth. Photo by createandcapturephotography.com