Black Friday

Turn It Off

If ever there come times when I say I wish I'd never had a child, it's on dark and depressing days such as this past Friday. The death of school children in Connecticut on Friday leaves me depressed and drained. It leaves me with just an overwhelming feeling of sadness.

I don't usually watch TV news but, once again, found myself in the lounge at the hospital with a TV on and a small group of docs glued to the story. I couldn't watch after about the first minute. But the story kept on. The emotion, the speculation, the drama. Every time I would enter the room, the same story. The shooter, the shooter, the shooter. And at that point I started to think the worst: Who's next? Where is the next tortured soul who sees this report and sees an opportunity, a means, an event to emulate? I can't help but think the media's exploitation of our addiction to viewing the actions of the tortured souls of this world fills sick minds with even more grotesque ideas. The grief. The horror. The fear. All at the calling of a single man. Like patrons at a peep show we seem unable to stop watching. And the performers know it.

If history repeats itself, in the days and weeks ahead the man behind this horror will be publicly dissected and displayed. His childhood, his family, his troubled or seemingly not-so-troubled past as the case may be. He will receive the very same coverage given a president, a hero, the same as any great public figure-- and far more than the average person who dedicates his life to the betterment of others. His face will be on the cover of magazines and on television screens for days to come. For the insanity of murdering young children and their caretakers he will be awarded celebrity.

For me, it's too much even to know it, let alone watch it unfold. The sadness. The young lives forever stripped of innocence. The parents and families twisting with fear and uncertainty. It's too much to watch. Watching won't make me better, smarter, safer, or more careful. Watching will only make me sadder and more pessimistic about our troubled society.

I came home on Friday and gave Ev a hug and didn't want to let go….ever. I don't know when the pall will lift. I'm sure it will leave me here in my home in Michigan far more quickly than it will any household in Newtown, Connecticut. But I'm done watching. I'm done with the story. My heart goes out to the parents and families of those lost and to the surviving children who have the rest of their lives to remember that awful day. The only other thing I need to know is just how lucky I am to have my family alive and safe, and that a parent can never take that for granted.