Mom and I recently watched Milk. She didn't remember what went on and wanted to see it. I do remember the events and had seen the movie but was still moved to tears through most of it. Public officials being shot feels too normal to me. The assassinations in the sixties were more shocking. I remember each one. At some point I developed a sense of inevitability. It's not OK. It's not OK to accept acts of madness.
It's not really acceptance.
It's a kind of resignation.
Conversations on Facebook, Twitter and the news have been fraught. The right trying to emphasize that this was the act of a madman and the politics don't matter. The left pointing at the rhetoric of the right.
The second amendment is what it is. I can't call on the constitution to support the rights I want and ignore the ones I think I are stupid. But the constitution was never meant to be a stagnant document. I don't like guns. I'd like them all to go away. But I know that isn't going to happen any time soon. And it is true that this was an act of madness.
I think it should be ridiculously difficult to get a gun.
Years ago I saw a movie in which the bad guy was so odious and relentlessly bad that when the good guy shot him it felt like victory. And the good guy shot the bad guy multiple times. More times than necessary and each time he fired it felt like victory. I don't like that feeling. And when that feeling is engendered by culture I find it troubling.
But there is that other amendment. Something about the right to speak freely. While I cringe at the target, reload, shooting metaphors I strongly support the rights of people to use them. Are these metaphors akin to shouting fire in a crowded theater? Somewhat. None of this is simple.
There probably are times when shooting is the most expedient solution.
I might be guilty of moral relativism but I don't see solid footing. I see a moment of evolution. We do need to lean toward civility and away from reckless rhetoric. We also need to hear each other.
Loss triggers rage, grief, frustration, confusion. his morning I noticed how many of the dead were senior citizens. And, of course, the nine year old girl. Rage, grief, frustration, confusion.