Honoring Newtown {Momma's Musings}

I was scared to put Zippy on the school bus this morning. Someone broke into his school over the weekend. The state police and K9 units searched the school and said it's safe. They believe it was just someone looking to steal something. Hubby tells me not to worry, to always go with the most likely scenario. But still I think, What if? It is the one-month “anniversary” (if that is the right word) of Newtown - is that just a coincidence? It is the first time since it happened that I've actually been afraid to sent my child to school. I keep thinking, What if?

For those of us not personally affected, it is almost too easy to start letting the horror of December 14 fade into the backs of our mind. Turn away. Stop listening. Just get on with life as we put more time between then and now. But every so often I search on-line for new developments. And if I read a story that has anything to do with the children – those who lost their lives or those who didn’t – it is fresh again and I find myself feeling haunted and achy and sick to my stomach.


When I was a sophomore at the University of North Carolina there was a shooting near campus. I was working that afternoon, sitting in a windowless office filing papers, oblivious to the fact that a law student was opening fire just outside. Two people were killed on the route I often walked home. On the quad in front of our building students were taking cover behind statues. I remember months later glancing nervously over my shoulder if someone walked too closely behind me on Franklin Street and worrying when I saw someone carrying a duffel bag (the shooter had concealed his weapons in a duffel bag). After 9/11, I tensed up when I heard a plane flying over my apartment - as though it might crash into a 2-story building in Syracuse.

That's what these events do. No matter how close or how far, they shake us to our core and fill us with a sense of fear, even if we can reason that we are in all likelihood totally safe. I wonder if the perpetrators realize just how far their reach is. One of my friends is a school counselor. She told me today that the rural elementary school where she teaches instituted a policy of teachers keeping their doors locked at all times. How freakin' inconvenient is that? I'm sure similar measures are being taken in schools across the country. How disturbing is it that the what-ifs have terrorized us into taking such elaborate measures?

It has been one month and we are no closer to having an answer. It is very likely we’ll never have an answer. An explanation someday, maybe, but not the answer we all want – the one that tells us how we ensure such a horror never, ever happens again.  We all know, if we have any ounce of intelligence (which I think we do), that such tragedies are multi-determined. There is no one reason we can point our fingers at, no one place to lay down the burden of blame. If we want to protect our communities going forward we have to come at this from every angle and even then, even then there is no guarantee.

I wrote letters to my legislators urging them to support any gun control measures that come before them. I’ll do the same regarding mental health and the need for laws that fund education (to reduce stigma and raise awareness), research, evidence-based prevention programs in our schools, and improved access to mental health care. It is easier for me to write letters to my lawmakers if I have something to work from. In case that helps you, too, here is a copy of the letter I wrote regarding gun control.  Find contact information for your U.S. Senator here and your Representative here. But  I admit that on-going political advocacy is not my strong suit. I write my letters and cast my vote in elections and then I hope someone else out there has the passion and knowledge to lobby hard for the change we need.

New laws and new initiatives from our government are essential, but they are not the whole answer. So what do we do, in our own lives, to be part of the change?  And is it too trite and cliche to suggest we can honor the victims of Sandy Hook with how we choose to live? I am not sure. But I do believe that choosing to make real, human connections and focus on substance and compassion instead of violence and achievement will, in some way, make the world a better place, even if it doesn't make it safer.

I know we often think about how we can raise our children to be good people. We can make sure home is a place that our children feel safe and loved just for who they are. We can do our best to put down our phones and look them in the eye when they are talking to us, so that they see that what they have to say matters. We can hug them every day, listen to them every day, apologize for our mistakes, and love through the messes.

We can try to teach our children empathy and compassion.  We can talk to them about bullying – not just what to do if they are bullied, but how not to be bullies or silent bystanders. We can encourage them to befriend the kids who need a friend and to reach out instead of look down upon. 

We can make sure our children aren't exposed to violent television shows or movies and video games, because research has shown that these things do affect them and anyway the glorification of violence has no place in our lives. And though we may not be able to stop toy companies from selling plastic assault rifles for 5-year-olds (yep, I saw one just the other day), we can sure as hell choose not to buy them.

And these ideas for how to raise our children are lovely, but they mean little if we are trying to be good parents without also being good people.
We need to do our best, as adults, not to talk about another person as though he or she is "less than" - not to judge or put down others, not to gossip in hurtful ways, even if it is in the privacy of our homes. Our children hear us. We can reach out to others, both kids and adults, who may be lonely or isolated, and help them to feel connected. Our children see us. We can show our children how to treat others by walking the walk. We can do our best to live compassionately and generously and with an open heart, not picking and choosing who "deserves" our goodness.

We need to do our damnedest not to use language that stigmatizes mental illness. In the last month, I still see this all over the place. We need to stop saying that someone "needs therapy" or "should be on meds" or "is schizo" when they do something confusing or upsetting. Those words only serve to further isolate and estrange families who are struggling with mental illness in their homes and discourage people from asking for help when they need it.

We need to reach out when we see someone struggling, instead of turn away and hide in our own busy lives. We need to be open and honest about our own issues so that others feel less alone with theirs.

We need to lead our children by example. We need to think not just about how we raise our children, but about how we choose to be in the world. 

I'm not saying this will stop another Newtown from happening. In fact, I would guess it won't. But there is also no telling when the compassion and connection we offer to someone will make all the difference. And since I can't protect my children in any absolute way, what I will do is make the world they live in as beautiful a place as I can. So this is my way of honoring Newtown, each day.