The dual titles to this essay span a period in time of more than 2500 years. Cherish the children is a maxim from Confucius. Unfathomable was enunciated this week in Newtown, Connecticut by Don Lemon, the indefatigable announcer for CNN on weekends. As you may have guessed, the title has to do with the recent massacre that took place in Newtown and resulted in the death of 26 victims, or if you count the mother of the shooter, 27 victims, and if you count the shooter himself, 28 victims.
The shootings took place exactly one week ago today. This morning television broadcasters showed a program at 9:30 at the firehouse near the Newtown school. As each name was read, the fire bell was rung with a very solemn tone.
I cannot imagine what the parents of the 20 slain first-grade students are going through. I am a parent myself of two daughters whose life has reached the midpoint, which is to say that 50 is viewed in the rear-view mirror of their lives. I can only imagine the agony if one of my daughters had been killed in a senseless act such as the recent Newtown massacre.
I am certain that a good many memories would come to my mind as I reviewed their lives. One memory has to do with my older daughter. There was a time when she was eight years old. That was in the third grade at the New Providence, New Jersey public schools. I was off from work that day and around 3 PM I sauntered out into the front yard so that I could see Maureen, alias Blondie, returning from her work at the school. At about that time, Clara Dinunzio came home. She and her husband Nick were good friends. And so it was that while I was waiting, I wandered across the street to talk to Clara Dinunzio. A short time later, I looked up the street and saw Blondie marching toward us. During her school years, Blondie was a clothes horse. She always tried to present herself in the most favorable light, which I greatly approved. As Blondie marched down the street, her school books under her arm, she met up with Clara Dinunzio and myself.
Clara and Blondie entered into a discussion of which the conclusion was, “The third grade is very hard.” That of course was an expression from Blondie. When the two of us had concluded our discussion with Clara Dinunzio, I held Maureen’s school books in one arm and she held my hand while we crossed the street, looking both ways. You may say that all of this was inconsequential. But to a father such as myself, the sight of Maureen walking down the street to meet Clara Dinunzio and me still is a vivid memory.
Now as to the other daughter, named Suzanne, alias Spooky Suze, there came a time when their mother and I and the two daughters decided to take a trip to Williamsburg, Virginia. Both girls were delighted with the costumes that the waitresses in Williamsburg wore. At this point, I believe that Spooky Suze was about six or seven years old. As we were looking around Williamsburg, I noticed that Suzanne was missing for a time. When she returned, my younger daughter presented me with a small bell. It was her very first purchase, I believe, with her own money and I was overwhelmed to receive that little bell. That bell, almost fifty years later, stands on a bookcase where I keep my books. It is a place of honor.
The third memory that comes to mind has a bad connotation to it. It occurred on the evening after John Kennedy was assassinated. On that date, both of my girls were still in the lower grades of grade school. At the time, I was working for the New York Telephone Company and I was eating in a deli on Broadway in New York City just south of the headquarters of AT&T at 195 Broadway. When I left the deli, I noticed that the people on the street were in animated conversation. It turned out that the news had just come from Dallas that John F. Kennedy had been assassinated. That was on November 22, 1963.
As I recall it, AT&T and the New York Telephone Company declared the following two days as days of mourning. The railroad schedules had a degree of confusion in them because everyone wished to go home at the same time that day. When I reached my home in New Providence, NJ the four of us had dinner. I sat in the living room and told the girls about the terrible news. They were seated one on each knee. They took the news about the assassination of John Kennedy with great solemnity because they knew that their father was in a very solemn mood.
Now if my daughters had been the victims of a shooting such as that in Newtown, CT, these are the sorts of memories that would com flooding back. To lose a child in such a senseless manner would be more, I believe, than I could bear. Here we are exactly one week after the shooting with the burials having taken place much of this week. If it were possible, I would love to put my arms around each of the parents. I would probably find myself speechless. What can you say that would comfort a parent who has lost a small child in such a senseless manner?
I find no comfort whatsoever to rely on spiritual matters. I do not believe that there are spirits looking out there in the atmosphere who have a bearing on the actions of men. The central question would seem to be if the killings of these small children take place under the auspices of a just and loving God. The answer from this quarter is a resounding no. There is no God. Any attempt by theologians or church goers to say that sooner or later God, whoever he is, will explain it all to us and make it appear reasonable. There is no such thing. It was a demented character who had access to guns who committed these murders. Any attempt to explain this act using a resort to spirituality is totally senseless.
These are my musings exactly one week after the Newtown massacre that occurred. I would give anything to have avoided this day. If my daughters had been involved in such a situation, I would have been remiss in my duties if I had not offered myself to the assassin in the hope that he would stop shooting after he had slain me. But life goes on. The only hope that those of us who deplore guns have is that some sensible legislation results from the massacre. But I doubt that will happen. The gun loving Republicans in both chambers, the Senate and the House, will not give Mr. Obama any hint of accomplishment. For those of us on the other side, we hope to keep the Newtown massacre fresh in our memories so that some meaningful legislation could come from it. I am gloomy about such an accomplishment but I always have some kind of hope.
The Carr daughters have produced a total of five grandchildren. The daughters and their husbands and the children are in good health. I am not sure whether the Carr daughters remember the incidents that are the theme of this essay. But I am certain that the daughters and their husbands will continue to cherish the children and that the massacre in Newtown will continue to present us with an unfathomable mystery. At this point, we can only hope for the best.
E. E. CARR
December 21, 2012
Essay 724
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Kevin’s commentary:
I’ll have to remind mom to read this one asap. I think it’s very sweet that you’ve held onto the bell all those years.
Otherwise, I think I have already made my points in other commentaries with regard to atheism and needing to value this life more when there is no consideration of the afterlife.
It’s important in the gun control debate to try to understand what the other side is hearing. Watchers of Fox news have no idea what the administration is actually saying… it’s easy to just call them insane but the truth is that they have no idea what’s happening, so their elected representatives are in office to defend their ignorant fears that the government will come steal all their guns. It is upsetting.