It’s Heartbreaking by Gene Chapman

 

I was writing a different editorial about the economy when the television blared the Uvalde disaster. I was struck with the great sorrow of a community, and a mismanaged economy was suddenly a minor matter. It was 1944, and I was five years old when pour next-door cousin was killed on Iwo Jima.  He often took my older brother and myself for a juicy ride in our little red wagon, around our house in a gallop, wrecking on the sharper curves, spilling us out on to the grass was our greatest delight. He and two other 18-year-old boys from our little Drew Central school, joined the Marines together, went to Iwo Jima together, all three dying within a few days together. Stinson and I grieved for our cousin, but Aunt Cora grieved for years, driving around in the night, often visiting the never closed Church.

I thought back to 1950 seeing our Uncle Merida driving up in our driveway, excited to see him, but when he exited his car, I knew something was terribly wrong.  He approached us with the saddest face I’ve ever seen, only able to say David died. David was Aunt Stella’s six-year-old who died unexpectedly, stricken with Polio. I remember thinking my smiling happy Aunt Stella would never smile again, and when she finally did, I could see the difference. The next time we drive through Uvalde, I expect we will feel the same sorrow, that can never completely heal. The husband who lost his wife, who died with a heart attack was overwhelming. I could only say a prayer for his four young children, now without loving parents. But one thing 84 years of life has taught me, humanity that have overcome impossible obstacles in life make the most honorable adults. They seem to know how to handle the problems of life, understanding and overcoming real obstacles.

I watched all I could for two days, of Uvalde horror. The first reports that a school officer had first encountered the young man, made no sense to me.  An officer seeing or hearing the wreck, with two shots at the funeral home, should have alerted the officer of the impending danger.  In my mind, he had time to call for back up, and take a position to prevent the horrific killings. By taking cover and shooting the young man, if necessary, as he approached. I thought maybe he was afraid of killing an innocent man prior to committing a crime and knowing what the liberal media does to overzealous officers, I tried to make an excuse for him. Then when I learned the shooter was never challenged, because the officer was never there, I felt a little like Governor Abbott felt a lot like.

Of course, it’s easy to be a hero, charging the killer, with him having an advantage over you with a serious weapon advantage, from the comforts of your computer room.  It was an easy decision if my wife, child, siblings, or parents were held hostage.  But, in a public situation, I wondered if I would have the discipline to do it, shooting straight without a nervous tic. As a i9 year old Navy Corpsman, assigned to the Marine at Camp Pendleton, I practiced using all the weapons, up to Machine guns, just in case it came to that. I never complained on the thirty mile forced marches, carrying thirty pounds of gear, checking the company for any signs of heat stroke at the few short rest stops, and treating blisters caused by heavy combat boots. They, in turn, treated me well beyond my worth, as a near doctor, after months of schooling as a Corpsman, and weeks of Field Medicine Service school, treating battlefield traumas. But that was military training, being trained, knowing one’s duties, and doing them without questioning.  Charging into a room, facing an AR15 is as stiff a threat as one can imagine, but there seems always that one, who will meet the challenge. In this case a Border Patrol member, imminently trained with the right equipment, did the job with a permanent scar a centimeter above certain death he can proudly wear forever. He met the test and did his duty and is to be highly commended.

The saddest thing about this horror of horrors, is the questions of, why didn’t someone see this coming? Why was the school officer late for work, and why did the teacher leave the door opened just before the culprit entered? We can’t do anything about it now, but we can learn from it, saving some future horror.  It’s not for me, but the professional will mete out any punishment where its’s due. I’m sure, those making innocent mistakes, will punish themselves for a lifetime.

There is an unforgivable 40 minutes between the shooting, and the Border Patrols dispensing of the shooter.  We will never know how many, if any, of the kids who bled out from lack of pressure or a simple tourniquet.  

One thing Texas should have learned from this is, that no voter should ever take seriously or vote for any candidate, who would use this most painful tragedy, to promote his candidacy.  The Uvalde Mayor handled that well. Senator Ed Markey from Massachusetts never fails to prove his idiocy, blaming Trump’s appointment of three Supreme court nominees who have participated in no such rulings. Chuck Schumer refused to bring up a bipartisan best practices school shooting study written from experience to educate schools, only because a Republican introduced it.

Today’s video games have a steady rata-tat-tar of bad guys bullets, always missing, while the good guy superhero delivers a killing shot in a midair double flip with invincible accuracy. Maybe they don’t realize that death is permanent. Something is different. Perhaps child labor was not such a bad thing after all.

I don’t recall anything remotely near this magnitude occurring in my childhood. I received my first twenty-two at thirteen and knew never to point an unloaded gun at anybody ever. Used it to shoot snakes in our fish stocked pond or crows pecking the vegetables in our garden.  But that was before single parent children, video games, indoctrinating left school, and you had to go to Sunday School even if you stayed out the night soaking in the music of every octave in the musical language of a fox race.

My heart breaks for every victim, even the unloved boy from a flawed family.

Gene Chapman