WordsRunTogether

You have to have the mental capacity of a 4-year-old to believe this guy is for real.

Whenever he’s around, the most obvious things become learning opportunities.

All his “friends” are actually paid to surround him and smile and act like all this is normal.

BIG head, big mouth.

Small hands.

Strange color.

Of course, we’re all in shock about the mass shooting at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando. But are we surprised? More importantly, are we going to do anything about it?

We’ve been here before. We pray, we cry, we rant. Mostly, I think, we ache with the full weight of being human and limited in our individual power.

But there is one way to increase your chances of it not happening. It’s only when we pool our resources that we succeed in epic battles. If things are going to change, we have to work together. But we—all of us—have to be reasonable, too. No fair cheating and relying on facile sound bites and worn out slogans.

America, we have a gun problem. It’s a problem that belongs to all of us. Even the diaper set.

How tragic is that?

There are reasonable steps we can take to stem the bleeding. It’s nothing less than a moral imperative. You can’t provide material aid to a killer and not be on the hook. Refusing to stop the American arms race is nothing less than aiding and abetting.

One step is to ban assault rifles (duh!). Another is to keep guns out of the hands of suspected terrorists, the mentally ill, and domestic abusers (duh again). Both these measures are before the Senate right now as Democrats hold forth in a filibuster to force the issue, even as I write this.

It’s a start.

We didn’t get to the moon in one step either. We worked together to get there.

Dan Hodges of the Mail recently tweeted that “In retrospect Sandy Hook marked the end of the US gun control debate. Once America decided killing children was bearable, it was over.”

Is it? I believe it’s not too late.

I will tell you where I was when I learned of the Sandy Hook massacre. My family and I were in the Minneapolis airport changing planes to get to Rochester and the Mayo Clinic. Our daughter was on traveling with a feeding tube that snaked up her nose and into her small intestine. We were going to find out why she was so very ill and unable to keep food down. We were traveling with 85 pounds of liquid formula so she’d have food for the week, a collapsible IV stand and feeding pump, and the last bits of our frayed nerves after 14 months of a mysterious and debilitating illness. Then Sandy Hook burst across the TV in the boarding area. We just stood there, looking up at the TV, tears sliding down our faces. We weren’t the only ones in the boarding area who were crying. I vowed that when our daughter was better I’d do my part.

This is part of that promise to do my part. My superpower is writing, so I write about such things with the hope of stopping them, of changing the tide. Poetry is powerful, but I know how much practical influence it carries, so also I write letters to my elected officials. And last, I urge others—you!—to write to theirs to ask them to help stop the bleeding…of our wounded, of our survivors, of our loved ones, of our resources. And mostly, of our children. Because everyone gunned down is someone’s baby.

Here’s where you can find your Congressional Rep: http://www.house.gov/representatives/find/

And your Senators: http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm?State=CO

Take 10 minutes. All you have to do is write the truth and sign it. Get to work!

And to help soothe your tortured soul today, here are pictures of my soft and cuddly dogs, Molly and Scout. They have never shot anybody.

Molly

Scout