This is good therapy, so I'm going to talk to myself. I live in Colorado Springs and, if I ever have to move to Denver, the Littleton area is likely were I'll live.
The problem is much more than tighter gun control (NOTE: I said gun control, not gun outlawing.). I would say the problems are in this order: parents, gun availability, media glamorizing violence, violently graphic video games, violent music, uncontrolled internet information.
They are all small pieces that join to form the terror Littleton has experienced.
My parents were visiting this week and my Dad made the comment "Jody always knew respect for guns, we didn't have to worry." However, he was so disconnected from my life that he missed the problem.
I was like those "Trench Coat Mafia" kids. Imagine:
- Walking down the hall and getting hit in the chest from no where
- Hit on your back and kicked for no reason other than you are
different
- Teachers shaking their head as you were being beat on, or
ridiculed by classmates
- Counselors saying "nobody likes you, what's wrong with you?"
- Any girl (yes, I'm male) that you liked laughing at you and
calling you a freak or loser
- Sitting on a bench during lunch and getting hit with anything
that could be thrown.
- Getting beat up by 5-6 guys on a bus ride home while the bus
driver pretends it isn't happening.
No one let my parents know...no one told them the problems I was having. I was a teenager, so I wasn't about to tell them. They didn't know me well enough to know that something was wrong...but they felt we had a good relationship.
I can't tell you how much I hated school, my tormentors, and myself.
But "I had respect for guns." Yeah...a loaded 12-gauge, safety off, barrel in mouth, thumb on trigger. I know how to handle guns and I know how dangerous they are. On that day, 13 years ago, I knew exactly what I was doing. I was a flinch away from being on the wall. If someone had knocked on the door, if the lights had flickered, if the phone had rang, if there was a particluarly loud firework (it was July 4th, my parents went to some friends and I told them I didn't want to).
What stopped me? We lived in a trailer and didn't have much. Here are the thoughts going through my mind as I sat there: 1. If I blow a hole in the side of the trailer, how can my parents afford to fix it while paying for my funeral. 2. My Mom will have to clean me up.
I took my thumb off the trigger, put it on safety, unloaded the gun, wiped all the tears off the barrel and stock, put the gun on the rack, and put the shell back in it's drawer. I then went outside for a walk...hoping the neighborhood kids wouldn't notice me and start shooting bottle rockets or something at me. The important question here: If I had such little regard for my own life, why would I care anymore about my tormentors? The answer: I didn't, but I also never thought of taking the shotgun to school with me...these days, I'd think about it because it's been done.
Today, I'm a successful computer engineer with a good company and a college degree (thanks to the Air Force). I have a beautiful wife and daughter. Most importantly, I'm not depressed. I was 16 when that happened and think about it often...what may not have been. A 16 year old is already unstable, the kind of crap I experienced was not necessary. Ironically, I beleive my High School experience has made me a stronger person...it takes an awful lot to get me rattled.
My parents were around me, but didn't know me. They were too busy with their lives to worry about me. Today, they wonder why we don't have a close relationship. Why, because we have nothing in common and I still hold resentment from my teenage years. It's immature, but I don't know if I can let it go.
Parents play a more important role than most think. The problems with our society start with parents.
I've never told this story in public before and many of my close friends haven't heard it. So why did I tell it now? I hope that someone with a child reads it and it scares them into getting to know their child.
Needless to say, this tragedy has been very hard on me emotionally. I see both sides of the story. I could have been those kids and I have a daughter...I've cried a lot the last few days.
Jody |
