“So, you were on the stage when the shooting started? Can
you describe for us what happened?”
As he listened to the news anchor’s question, the young
man’s gaze was averted. He was seeing
something else, something off-camera, something that left him pale and haunted. In his blue flannel shirt and jeans, this kid
had just spent the evening at a country western festival… and been sprayed with
gunshots from a window on the 32nd floor of the Mandalay Hotel. The silence seemed long… painful… between the
anchor’s question and the boy’s ability to find his voice. He glanced into the camera and quickly away.
“I was with my sister,” he began, and immediately, I worried
about his sister. “We heard this popping noise.
Pop, pop, pop. At first we
thought it was, like, firecrackers or something, you know? But then, this guy
next to us was shot…” The boy angled his head and placed a finger where his
neck met his jaw, “here. In the head.”
He went on, his voice flat, his gaze still fixed elsewhere,
back in time. “The shooting stopped,
then started again. There were three
volleys. Each time, my sister threw her body
over mine and told me she loved me.”
With tears running down my face, I imagined being
there. Out on a glorious night, enjoying
the music and festivity, and then, the fatal shift wrought by that popping
sound. Those desperately whispered, possibly last, loving words as Dave leapt
to cover me, or as I leapt to protect my children. The futility of flesh as a
shield when hatred has access to an automatic weapon.
Who would continue to allow that access after the deaths of
20 first graders and six of their teachers in Sandy Hook? Who would allow that after the deaths of
theater-goers watching a movie in Aurora?
Who would allow that after the deaths of young people dancing at a club
in Orlando? Who would continue to do
nothing as guns in the hands of the mentally ill or hate-consumed continue to
kill Americans gathered peacefully together?
Statistics vary depending on the source and definition of a
mass shooting. Gun Violence Archive counts 1500 mass shootings since Sandy
Hook. These include incidents where four
or more people were shot, not necessarily killed, and not including the
shooter. So if three people were shot and
killed, they’d not be counted in that statistic. In terms of individual gun deaths, the
average is 12,000 homicides a year. If suicide by gun is included, the number
skyrockets, as if 12,000 weren’t skyrocket enough.
So, how is Congress responding to these tragedies? What
steps are they taking to keep guns
out of the wrong hands? Oh, wait. No. Their response, no doubt prodded by the
NRA and gun manufacturers, is to pursue ways to make it easier. In Connecticut, we are
blessed by Senators Murphy and Blumenthal, and Representative Jim Himes who are
seeking to close loopholes in existing legislation. But a few months ago,
enough members of Congress voted “aye” to pass a law that allows those with
mental illness easier access to guns.
Not only that, there are bills currently under consideration to legalize
silencers and give concealed-carry permits validity even in states that don’t
allow them.
WHAT? Why is the agony and outrage most Americans feel not
reflected in the votes and actions of Congress?
“The second amendment demands we protect gun ownership!”
might be the response. But it’s lunacy or
willful ignorance to think the founding fathers envisioned automatic weapons,
or would wish to protect the right to spray death on innocent citizens with a
weapon designed to kill many in a short time.
Over the past year, my husband and I saw Zac Brown in
concert at Citifield and James Taylor and Bonnie Raitt at Fenway Park. The stands were packed to capacity at both
venues, with roughly 35,000 eager fans in attendance at each. Despite the happy crowds and great vibe, it
crossed my mind, just a quiet flitter, that a shooter with an automatic weapon
could do a lot of damage if that were the goal.
Instead, people danced, just as the concert-goers in Las
Vegas did. Everyone smiled, and some
linked arms, as 35,000 people sang along with James Taylor to “You’ve got a
Friend.”
That is who we
are, isn’t it?
In the names of those dead by gun violence, and to prevent
adding the names of our loved ones to that list, I pray that Congress, those
entrusted with the well-being of the nation and its people, will be moved by
these deaths to enact common sense gun control and start, at the very least,
with re-instating the ban on semi-automatic weapons.
