Saturday, December 15, 2012

Desperate, terrible sadness.

In a few minutes now, Alexander will set forth into the semi-dark, to walk to the school bus stop with his beloved Little Boys. He will be reluctant to let them go.

Amy Kaspar has written something for the Examiner about knitting for Newtown. (I can’t find it on the Examiner website, to give you the link. I read it on Zite.) My first thought was derisive. Knitting? But it’s a sensible article, about prayer shawls and stuffed toys. If I were in America this morning, there are few places I’d rather be than in a seat at the table in my LYS.

We have seen this particular pattern before, including at Dunblane. Augmented suicide. There has been at least one previous instance where the killer began by killing his mother. I don’t trust myself to write about this. The hellish unhappiness of that young man. The dangers for all young men of the white-water years of adolescence.


  1. I feel for all the Alexanders amd Alexandras everywhere right now.
    Yes, there will be a great need for prayer shawls and stuffed toys in the weeks and months to come.

  2. Donna3:05 PM

    Thank you Jean for teaching me to pity the young man also. White water years so terribly true.

  3. This morning was. My university's December graduation. It tends to be a small, low-key affair, compared to the May event, and only a few faculty members, representatives from each department, go. As we put on our robes and hoods, my fellow faculty members and I were subdued and speaking quietly among ourselves about yesterday's tragedy. One of my colleagues came behind me to adjust my hood and said softly, "it seems that now none of us are safe. Not babies in primary school, or college professors like us." Another colleague noted the large police presence around us and at the ceremony, and their own somber mood. "Seems to be a lot police for such a small event. There usually aren't that many even at the main graduation, and they are always just there to direct traffic."
    On the way in a professor noted that we should "buck up, because today is a happy day for these kids who are graduating." so we did, and I have to say that it was a welcome distraction this morning, to be among happy young people and their parents.
    But my heart is so sad. My mom was a vice principal and she said that what happened yesterday was her "worst nightmare come to life. As a teacher at a university, I have to say that it is mine too.

  4. It is a terrible thing. I've always said that as a parent, we make the best choices we can with the information in front of us. The most we can hope for is that they don't have too much to talk about in therapy. I don't know what to say about this situation, but the young man had something he was battling. His mother's employment at the school he shot up is a big clue. Something horrific must have happened to him during his formidable years. My heart hurts for all involved.

  5. I've just retired after years of working with pre-schoolers and have seen the security measures getting tighter and tighter . We'd grumble because it became a major performance to take a few children outside to see a passing fire engine or the ducklings in the canal . But this , has proved that , even in sleepy little towns , there is the potential for tragedy .
    The desperate waste of it all .....

  6. I live in Massachusetts, an easy drive from the elementary school, and the reality hasn't yet fully settled into my bones. But I did find myself putting aside the useful forest green wool hats I'm knitting for the homeless and casting on a wildly colorful striped bag for my younger (although still college-aged) niece. Just instinct. Sometimes the heart knows a lot it doesn't bother to get the brain to understand right then, just acts on it.