The Aim of Blame (plus things we can all do to bring ourselves back from the brink)

Several people are running around this week shouting that we need more robust gun laws in the wake of the Las Vegas shooting that took place.

It is my firm belief that those that those people are wrong.

You have others who claim this is certainly a tragedy, however this tragedy does not warrant any policy change to address these types of acts.

They are also wrong.

Changes to gun laws would not have prevented the incident in Las Vegas. If you don’t believe me here’s an expert’s opinion, that was formed by academics, rather than anecdotal experience.

Additionally, there’s a video that has recently found renewed popularity online regarding the technology that was relevant when the 2nd amendment was written. If you haven’t seen it you can find it HERE. Attention-grabbing, satirical, and perhaps a bit humorous, is it not? All possibly true, but it is also ignorant. What this video ignores is perhaps the more relevant item based on its historical context: The fact that the authors of the 2nd amendment were living in a time when government overreach was not the plot of a far-fetched suspense novel, but reality.

The truth is there is not one right answer to the question of “How could’ve the Las Vegas tragedy (or any mass shooting) been prevented?” Moreover, the answer to “What could’ve stopped Stephen Paddock from killing over 50 people?” is even more elusive.

The things that stand out to this author are as follows:

1. Assess your Values
1. Figure out what it is that drives you, what’s truly important
2. Determine how you can factor in these values to your daily living
2. Streamline your commitments
1. There are a thousand things barking for our attention everyday. To be a modern person it is expected that you do things that, for lack of a better phrase; weren’t even a thing 10, 20, 30 years ago.
2. Quite simply, remove the things that are without purpose, or simply aren’t worthwhile.
3. Connectivity
1. Even the most cynical among us (raises hand) realizes a complete lack of interpersonal connections is a recipe for disaster
2. Connect with family, friends, acquaintances, even strangers!
4. Self care
1. Mental health is a lot like physical health, if you don’t do it for yourself, no one will do it for you.
2. Make it a point to engage in some activity you enjoy that reduces your stress level

The Less Ordinary Life of Harold: Something Different

                Harold’s room is dark. There’s no lights, no TV, not even the glowing blue power light of his PlayStation. The street lights outside cast a pale amber glow across the floor from the window. It makes the space look sour.

 

 

            The boy who is normally full of whimsical, and yet often profound imaginative qualities looks sullen. He can usually be found doodling or reading comic books, but instead he sits slumped on his bed, staring at nothing, thinking of everything. His cheeks are puffy, red-hot and not quite wet from stale tears.

            After waiting to see if he snaps out of it on his own, Harold’s mom knocks, but opens the already cracked door at the same time.

            “You ready to tell me what happened today?”

            Harold sniffed, a thick snort filled the room. His mother handed him a tissue, and waited.

            “I got beat up.” Harold turned towards the window as he said the words.

            “Really?” his Mom looked him over. “You look fine. Are you okay?”

            Harold shrugged off the hand that inspected his face, “I’m fine Mom, it didn’t hurt,” this he said proudly, as he craned his neck back towards his mother. She could see in his eyes, he meant what he had said. The truth in his words was overwhelming. She wanted to hold him, hug him, but she resisted, knowing that wasn’t what he needed right now.

            “So?” she asked casually.

            Finally, Harold spoke, “Ronnie Danko called me ‘fat boy’ again today.”

            Harold’s Mom nodded.

            “I told him if he ever done it again, I was gonna punch him in the mouth.”

            “So what’d you do?”

            “I punched him in the mouth,” Harold giggled, and his Mom joined him in the laughter.

            “I take it there’s more to the story?”

            Harold nodded, “After I punched him, he didn’t fall. He came at me, knocked me down and kicked me in the stomach a few times before Mr. Rawls broke it up.”

            “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

            “The worst part was no one helped me. No one even yelled at him to stop.”

            She held his hand, he let her. Harold’s Mom wanted to cry for her son. She was furious as she imagined the crowd of students staring, mouths agape, fulfilling their role as nothing but spectators. She didn’t say what she was thinking, “What happened after?”

            “I dunno, not much.” Harold’s speech quickened though, “Mr. Rawls carted Ronnie off to the office, Trisha, that student-teacher, took me to the nurse.”

            “And?” the patience in her voice was profound, knowing.

            “When’s it go back to normal?”

            She thought she had been prepared for the question, any question. “Does what go back to normal?”

            “Me?” Harold paused, maybe struggling a bit to find words, which was never a problem for him under normal circumstances. “I feel empty, like he took what made me happy.”

            She could hold back no longer, she hugged Harold, tightly. “Don’t worry it’ll come back in time son, and it will be stronger than ever. You will be stronger than ever.”

            “Thanks Mom.”

            “Thanks for talkin’ to me,” she rose from his bed, and headed for the door.

            “Mom, I thought I had him you know? I just thought I had it figured out, how it would go. Thought, he would fall and not get back up.”

            She paused to look down at her son, “Sounds like you two have something in common. Only difference is he got up and kept going during the fight, you get to do it after.”

            Harold nodded. She hoped he understood as much as he seemed. “Oh by the way, there is one thing I know for sure little man.”

            “Ya, what’s that?”

            “That precise moment when you think you have things figured out, just know you don’t.”

            “So what do you do then?”

            “Something different.”

All the Times

When was the last time you cried?

Have you blocked it out? Have you never? Or at least it’s nothing you’d admit to?

However, can you recall the last time you smiled? When you laughed last?

I think to some extent we all hope and pray for a life less ordinary, not thinking as we do that less ordinary may not always be positive. We crave action, adventure, love, lust, passion, fame, fortune…All the while thinking that when we get them it will ultimately lead to satisfaction, the satiating of some primal thirst, our idea of happiness.

After some thought, I think that this might be a misguided way to demand drama, to call for misfortune. The most troubling piece of the human condition is its addiction to fickleness. We are junkies for stimulation and agitation. We are quick to leave what’s comfortable and content for the mere empty promise of a thrill. When that thrill fails us, we are then left cowering with regret.

Again, when was the last time you cried?

Was it because of someone else? Perhaps it was. Even so, it likely in no small measure the indirect terminus of decisions that you yourself made. Decisions that came about because you weren’t happy to begin with, you shunned contentment and went out on your own, with the name of exploration on your lips, but perchance something very different in your heart.  

Remember this the next time you feel that phantom of the rambler try and take your hand. Seeking you when times are not necessarily bad, but even simply the mundane. It will whisper that things can be more exciting elsewhere. It pours lies into your waiting ears, making you forget that what you now have was at one point everything you ever wanted. And maybe still is.

The person that seeks respite from a life without trouble will undoubtedly find it.. It’s an unfortunate fact that we have to take the bad with the good, otherwise the good would be the mundane, and become lost in the everyday. Recall that whether great, horrible, or indifferent, all the times of your life matter. In an incalculable and cosmic way, the sum is greater than the parts.

There, now you’ve cried for the last time.