Like most everyone else in the country, I listened, read and watched with horror on Dec. 14 as the details of the school shooting in Newtown, Conn. unfolded. I was running errands with my 3-year-old twins, who don’t really know what guns are for or what dying is. We stopped at a pizza joint for lunch, which, unfortunately, had televisions aimed at us from every angle.
They were all tuned to either sports or news, creating a jarring pastiche of football, crime-scene tape, baseball, still photos of children being evacuated, more football and talking heads floating above a scrolling death-toll ticker. I may as well have eaten the napkins, for all the enjoyment I got out of the food.
My kids climbed around on the booth, spilling milk and fighting with each other over crayons. I should have been thankful that they were keeping me busy and annoyed, because if I had seen that picture of the kids being led out of the schoolhouse while my daughters were being sweet and perfect, I would have lost it.
I have nothing to add to the words that have been written about how incomprehensibly horrible this tragedy is, nor any advice on how to talk to your children about it or how to process it yourself. On the two latter topics I remain quite ignorant. My kids are far too young to have a clue about this kind of stuff; and as for me, I’m choosing not to process it quite yet.
Read the full commentary in San Diego Uptown News, a SDGLN media partner, HERE.