They Could Have Said Good-bye

Good-bye – alteration of G-d be with you.  First Known Use: circa 1580

Merriam-Webster 

Tom Lehrer knew a good obituary when he saw one.  In 1965 he sung about Alma Mahler Gropius Werfel (1879-1964) a woman who had been romantically involved with the best and brightest of 20th Century central Europe.  She married three of these successful men.  Her obituary detailed all of this and Lehrer gave us Alma: 

Alma, tell us

All modern women are jealous.

You should have a statue in bronze

For bagging Gustav and Walter and Franz.  

As noted last week, I read the obituaries every day as part of my job.  Most obits are predictable and of little interest to anyone but the deceased’s friends and family.  The words beloved, dearest, and devoted are liberally sprinkled throughout these 50 – 75 word essays. 

This is it.  This is the family’s last chance to tell the world how great their dad was, how much they loved their mother.  Obituaries are optional.  The newspaper publishes a death notice, the names of everyone who has died in the paper’s service area.  It is up to the friends and/or family whether they choose to memorialize the recently departed. 

That is how it usually works.  Every once in awhile a little truth sneaks in.  And sometimes, sometimes the family uses the obituary page as a vehicle to set the record straight or to get the last word.  The following obituary appeared recently.  I don’t know the family and never met the deceased.  I have redacted the names, even though this was published in the Plain Dealer, for reasons that will soon be apparent.  This is how the family chose to spend $250. 

XXXXXX XXXXX XXXXX, from Parma, OH, died on April 19. He was a better grandpa than he was a dad, but he had some decent moments with his kids that involved nature walks, Geauga Lake, and watching campy horror films. He enjoyed working at the local deli, with his friend Al, and he made really good sandwiches. He put a lot of thought into it and always put the sliced tomatoes separate so they didn’t make the bread all wet and soggy. He could cook anything on the grill, and he could grow anything in the garden. He liked animals, especially birds, as well as flowers, trees, and well-tended gardens. He knew a lot about these things, as well as astronomy and metallurgy. He also enjoyed reading National Geographic and the Smithsonian. He hated rap music, people who took too long to make left turns, and the invention of the breathalyzer. He loved his parents, Jack and Dorothy XXXXX and enjoyed his grandchildren. He is survived by his mother, brothers, Gary and Keith XXXXX, and children, Heather, Meggin, Aaron and Hilary. In spite of everything, he will be missed, especially by his grandchildren, xxxxxx, xxxxx and xxxxx.

He is dead.  It is now up to each of us to keep those sliced tomatoes separate and the rye bread dry.  And the family has had their say. 

The one thing they didn’t say was “Good-bye”.

IMG_2189

DAVE

Saying Good-bye

I immediately recognized his face.  It’s not that I knew him well.  I didn’t.  In fact, I don’t think that Martin (name changed for obvious reasons) and I had ever had a meaningful conversation.  But we had both belonged to an organization and I recognized his face, if not his name, the moment I saw his picture in the newspaper.  In the obituaries.  Martin died last week.  And Martin was about five years younger than me. 

I read the obituaries daily.  This is part of my job.  Should one of my clients die, I will have a chance to get the claim’s process started even before they call.  Reading the obits also allows me to react to the deaths of the relatives of my clients.  Sometimes that reaction is a handwritten note.  Sometimes it is a donation to charity or a Shiva call.  Regardless, reading the obits allows me to be a better friend and a better agent.  The result of my diligence was learning of Martin’s passing last week. 

This post won’t serve to memorialize Martin.  Hell, I’m not even revealing his real name and I know that most of my readers never met him.  No, I want to share with you what happened, or didn’t happen, after he died. 

Remember, I really didn’t know Martin.  I didn’t know his company name and only had an educated guess as to what he did.  Since Martin had a common name, Google wasn’t necessarily the easiest way to confirm that I had the right guy.  So I went to the website of the organization where I thought that I had met him.  If I was correct, the website would note the passing of an active member. 

Nothing.  There was nothing on the organization’s website about Martin’s death.  There was a News section right on the Home Page.  And as I later learned, Martin’s banner ad was still there, big and bold, helping to fund an organization that couldn’t be bothered to note his passing.  I searched the site and found a mention of his name.  Martin was a Doer, a guy who had given of his time too.  I was able to confirm the name of his business and was shocked at how many times either he or the business appeared on this organization’s website.  Shocked because it became apparent that getting money and effort from Martin had been important to the people who ran the organization, but neither the memory of Martin, nor the needs of his family, was worth noting. 

Today is Sunday, almost a week since Martin died.  Martin’s banner ads are still running on the organization’s website.  But there is no mention of Martin’s death.  If anything, perhaps we should commend the organization.  The leaders of the organization have shown great honesty.  They don’t really give a damn about their members and they aren’t going to lie or fake that they do.  

wood

I sent a condolence card to Martin’s family. It was my way of showing respect and saying good-bye. And while I’m thinking about good-byes, it may be time to wave good-bye to this and other organizations that want time and money but really don’t care what happens to you.  Even when you die. 

Good-bye P. D.

Is there a DNR order?  Is there a hospice for a newspaper?  After suffering from years of benign neglect, the (formerly Cleveland) Plain Dealer is patiently waiting to die.

The real changes kick in later this summer.  In an effort to make its death more painful, Advance Publications, the absentee owner of the Plain Dealer, has decided to continue to print the paper daily.  They just won’t deliver it four out of seven days.  Three days a week the paper will be at your door.  The rest of the time it will be hide and seek.  Three days a week your ads will be seen.  Four days a week the paper will shrink to the size of a seventh grader’s book report.  

You might think that this would be enough.  You might think that making the paper harder to access is the business equivalent of a pillow held firmly to your sleeping face.  Advance Publications isn’t taking any chances.  If relevance is the Plain Dealer’s challenge, terminating fifty-three people from the newsroom this summer only hastens the paper’s demise. 

Newspapers can not be duplicated online.  There are wonderful, successful newspapers.  There are wonderful online publications.  They are not one in the same.  I read the daily paper of wherever I am everyday.  Most days that is Cleveland and the Plain Dealer.  But I travel for both business and pleasure and I have the opportunity of reading ten to twelve different papers each year.  There is no greater window to a community than its daily paper.  I also get the New York Times delivered to my email everyday.  Great national and international news, but as a connection to the City, it might as well be the English version of LeMonde.   

Connection.  Newspapers, tangible, deliverable, old fashioned newspapers, provide a clearer picture of the city.  This truth was brought home to me yesterday. 

I was sorting the Sunday Plain Dealer.  I scanned the front page.  No mention of Korea or bombs.  Good.  I then grabbed the Metro section for the obituaries and the Forum section.  I normally hunt for the comics and the Business section, too, before I start to read.  While looking for the Business section I saw the front page of the employment portion of the classifieds.  There, big and bold, was a picture of my client Randy DeMuesy and an article about his profession, copywriting. 

I don’t read the want ads.  But I got to read an interesting article about someone I know.  In fact, this isn’t the first time one of my clients has been featured in this space.  I’ve even read Terri Mrosko’s pieces about people I don’t know.  She’s a good writer and these are interesting columns. 

Bump into that online.  You can’t.  Go to Cleveland.com and yes, if you knew that there was an article about Randy, you might find it.  But there aren’t any pleasant surprises.  You search for specific things online.  You bump into nothing. 

Getting your information online is much like watching cable news and expecting to get the whole story.  The broadcast channels are forced to attempt balanced reporting.  Sometimes they succeed.  Sometimes they fail.  Balance isn’t even a goal on most cable outlets.  If I lean politically in a certain direction I can tune into FOX.  They will tell me what I already suspect and confirm what I think is true.  If I lean in the other direction, MSNBC is waiting for me.  No surprises.  The familiar guests are outraged on cue.  The conclusions are perfectly choreographed.   

The Plain Dealer is not G-d’s gift to journalism, but it is more than adequate and there are moments of greatness.  The writing is consistently good, though we have lost some of their best due to budgets and politics.  Page 2 of yesterday’s paper had Regina Brett utilizing all of her skills to justify this new change.  I wonder when she drew the short straw that got her this assignment.  On the same page was Grant Segall’s much more interesting interview of Lisa Nielson, a teacher in Case Western Reserve’s SAGE’s program.  I would link the interview for you but as is so often the case with Cleveland.com, it is lost in their system! 

I would never have seen that Nielson interview online.  Or Randy’s.  Or any of the other articles that make the Plain Dealer worth reading.  And it is worth reading, or visiting, before it dies.

Real vs. Fake

Our winter vacation is an escape from reality.  Once a year we leave the grey and gloom of February in Cleveland for the sun and light of the Caribbean.  It is only a week.  There is a definite beginning, middle, and end.  But during that week there is permanent summer, frothy cocktails, and all the SPF 50 I can get my hands on.  Sally is oiled up and laying on the beach.  I read, play volleyball (water or beach), and hide in the shade.  And when it ends all too soon, we pack up and fly back to March and the hope that spring will be here soon. 

This year’s trip was to Mexico.  We stayed at a lovely resort in the Riviera Maya region just north of Playa del Carmen.  It is a wondrous area of incredible Mayan ruins, history, and natural beauty.  It is also a land of manufactured glamour, chain resorts, and cheap souvenirs.  You could spend all of your time on one of the resorts with a cold drink, a hot partner, and never know why that statue in the waterfall by the Japanese restaurant looks a lot like a jaguar.  And snakes!  What’s with the serpents? 

I was determined that we would experience the proper mix of fake and real this year.  Our home base would be Ocean Maya Royale, an adult only medium sized resort that felt, to me, more like Mexico than many of the other chains.  We were rewarded with a terrific beach, good service, and excellent food.  It was a fun place and I’m sure that we will return.  

The resort part was easy.  There are plenty of places to get a nice beach, adequate service, and acceptable food.  In fact, that pretty much describes just about any place at Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic.  My goal was to leave the resort and visit the real world.  That is why we chose Mexico and, in particular, the Riviera Maya region.  I wanted to take Sally to Chichen Itza and to snorkel in a cenote, an underground cavern. 

I visited Tulum in the late 1990’s.  The tour guides gave us much the same presentation then as the one we heard last week.  We were supposed to be awed by the Mayan’s advanced society and their grasp of mathematics.  The buildings are amazing, the pillars are aligned just so. 

Picture 012

But I found Chichen Itza unsettling.  Sure the tour guides oversell their ancestors’ ingenuity.  Some of the formulas and explanations seem to be flexible.  When I visited the Forbidden City my Chinese tour guide explained the fixation with the number 9 as nothing more than that Nine is a Royal number.  My Mayan guide tied the 9 tiers of the main tower of Chichen Itza as a reflection of the 9 planets, an explanation that only worked during the @100 years that Pluto was accepted as a planet.  

Everything that had an explainable symmetry was acknowledged.  What was asymmetrical was ignored.  I could ignore the hordes of locals hawking trinkets.  I could not get past the unanswered questions in front of me. 

Of course, this isn’t entirely the Mayan’s fault.  The Spanish and the Catholic Church destroyed much of the written documentation and artifacts of their culture. But I kept looking at the reliefs on the walls.  

Picture 011

Picture 020

The story I saw was of a culture that had peaked.  No one knows the exact cause of the demise of the Mayan society.  I am certainly no expert.  But I saw immense buildings built to honor their gods and to serve their community.  This took time, talent, and organization.  But I wonder if once they got there, if once they got the buildings done, if they, as a society, stopped growing.  The carvings show bloodletting rituals and human sacrifice.  They may have died as a society, but it appears that they first became a culture of Death.  The sport became more violent, and perhaps, the gods became less easily satisfied.  

I walked the plane looking for anything that celebrated life.  I couldn’t find it.  There were statues of the progression man hoped to make from jaguar to eagle to serpent, but if you look closely at the pictures you will see who truly rules these buildings, the iguanas.  

I left the plane and found life, a magnificent banyan tree. 

Picture 015

We spent another day in the water.  We snorkeled in three locations, a cenote, a giant sinkhole of fresh water, and an inlet of fresh water that eventually went out to the sea.  In a one mile swim we went from fresh water to a mix to all salt water.  This was one of our best snorkeling adventures. 

I went to Mexico to get away, to see sun, and to see the real and the fake.  But the real doesn’t have to be wonderful and the fake doesn’t have to be bad.  Mexico let us experience a full range of both.

The Animal Within

Can you be cornered at a round table?  Clearly the 62 year old woman who was glaring at me through her tears, her hurt, and her anger felt cornered.  She turned to her husband – three weeks from turning 65, two weeks from Medicare – and asked, “Is this working for you?”  “Yes”, he replied.  “I’m learning something”.  That really got to her. 

            I’ll wait in the car, Harry.

            Sit down Rachel.  He’s trying to help us.

            But I’ve done three months of research.  We already know what we need to do.

            No, we need to ask him more questions. 

Clutching some of the booklets and brochures she had brought to my office, she returned to her seat.  She only threatened to wait in the car one more time over the next 90 minutes.  Through her outbursts and his more restrained rage I learned about their long history of victimization.  The insurance companies had screwed them!  The hospitals had ripped them off!  The details were fuzzy and contradictory, but their emotions were red hot. 

cornered

Harry and Rachel (not their real names) had contacted me and had asked for an appointment.  I didn’t want Rachel to wait in the car.  I wanted them both to leave.  But her behavior was so erratic and unpleasant that I had to wonder if her outbursts were medically related.  The smartest thing I could do was to try to calm them down, listen to their bitter litany of complaints, and ease them out of my office.       

We have all had our share of victories and defeats, allies and adversaries.  In a perfect world we learn from our mistakes, create more friends than enemies, and spend our lives moving forward instead of reliving our past.  There are, however, some people who obsess about every time that they have ever been wronged. 

If you believe the armchair shrinks, ex-FBI profilers, and the spokesmen for the various law enforcement groups, Christopher Dorner collected grudges.  And when his head ran out of room to store them all, he unleashed a revenge based assault on the system that he felt had failed him.  Four people have died, countless traumatized, and a fortune was spent to keep others from being harmed and to bring him to justice.  Was he returned to the courts to face a jury of his peers?  No.  He died alone, in a cabin that was on fire and under siege, possibly with a bullet from his own gun. 

Could we have prevented Christopher Dorner and, more importantly, future Christopher Dorners from losing control and becoming a danger to themselves and others?  Probably not.   

Christopher Dorner wasn’t just another loser with a gun.  Dorner graduated from Southern Utah University with a degree in political science.  He was an officer, an ensign, in the Navy and served in Iraq.  While not on active duty he also joined the Los Angeles Police Department.  The Navy had evaluated him.  The LAPD had evaluated him. Every step along the way there were people authorized to say, “No, this guy might abuse his position”.  That wasn’t done. 

If the U.S. Navy and the LAPD couldn’t see this coming, didn’t know that they were arming and training a future killer, how can we believe that we can prevent the future slaughter of innocents?  We can’t. 

The first two victims were truly innocents.  On February 3rd Monica Quan and Keith Lawrence were executed while sitting in a car in a parking lot.  Quan was the daughter of Randall Quan, the LAPD officer who had unsuccessfully represented Dorner during his termination appeal.  Lawrence was Ms. Quan’s fiancé. 

Christopher Dorner wrote that Quan had failed him.  The price of failure was Quan’s daughter. 

So we are left with four dead and three seriously injured.  In a case of mistaken identity, two of the injured were people shot by the police during the Dorner manhunt.  But the biggest toll, the biggest cost for the rest of us, has been that once again we have been reminded that there are people amongst us who can not process defeat.  And as their losses mount and their sense of entitlement increases, their anger and hurt take over. 

And the human animal, armed, dangerous, and unbound by social restraints, is truly scary when cornered.

 

 

Take A Deep Breath

My Facebook friend, Katherine Natasha Lott, has a story to tell.  A big story.  She has mapped out a five novel fantasy series and is ready to embark on this writing adventure.  As part of her preparation, she has been reading a variety of novels, not exclusively but mostly in the fantasy genre.  She recently asked for suggestions. 

I thought about the writers who had spurred my imagination and motivated me to write.  Tolkien, Rostand, Huxley, Potok, Lehrer, and all of the guys at Mad Magazine.  I suggested the first couple of the above.  

Katherine then mentioned the Pawn of Prophesy by David Eddings and I said, “Huh?”  And that’s when I realized how little time I have for pleasure reading. 

I do read.  A lot.  I start each day by reading the entire Plain Dealer.  My average day includes a visit to the Health and Human Services (HHS) website to review the newest rules and regulations.  And then I read the major analysis of those new rules and regs.  You have to read the analysis to know what the politicians will be saying in 3 to 5 days.  The rest of my daily reading time is usually reserved for politics and industry publications.  That leaves precious little time for much else. 

I have only read two books in the last year.  One was Game Change, a comprehensive, behind the scenes look at the 2008 election.  The other was 2030, Albert Brooks’ dystopic novel about the decline of American civilization due to weak, self-serving politicians and a shlub who finds the cure for cancer.  Even my reading has been about politics and health care.  Crap. 

The last year has been marked by the illnesses and deaths of several friends and clients, poisonous national politics, and the upheaval of how we pay for health care in this country.  And when it looked like we were about to relax for the holidays, we suffered the devastating slaughter at Sandy Hook.  This blog has reflected our times. 

I created a new recipe last week for my Type 2 and low carb readers.  It was Aglio Et Olio with chicken breast.  I dutifully recorded everything as I made the dish.  But posting the recipe seemed frivolous.  I couldn’t do it. 

There are people who bemoan our society’s apparent apathy.  I disagree.  I have talked to my friends.  I have read your blogs, your tweets, and your Facebook posts.  We care.  Hell, we may care too much.  And we are hurting. 

I need to stop and take a deep breath.  You might need to as well, but I can only speak for myself.  Sitting here at home, feet up, a totally irrelevant football game (for a Browns fan) on TV, I realize how little joy there seems to be nationally and how that is impacting me (us). 

So I am going to find something good to read.  I might revisit The Lord of The Rings.  I can almost hear Cyrano calling me.  Or maybe I’ll look up David Eddings.  Katherine seems to have enjoyed his book.

DAVE

The Picture of Ignorance

The gun enthusiast thought that he was making his point.  He posted a picture of Adolph Hitler with two young children.  The caption was, “Take all of the bad guns from the people…to save the little children”.  The message was that restricting access to guns was necessary to protect children. 

Our Facebook buddy was trying to tell us that it is our patriotic duty to allow every American with an inferiority complex and a couple hundred dollars to own an arsenal. 

BULLSHIT 

Hitler’s German army walked through much of Europe, but a couple of tailors with pistols could have prevented the Holocaust?  This ignorance, and the people who propagate it, does not denigrate the memory of those who were murdered in the Holocaust.  The Six Million are beyond their reach.  No, the people who post this trash disgrace the memory of their fathers and grandfathers who served in the war and risked their lives to fight fascism. 

And isn’t that really one of the problems?  Do you really want some of these Yahoos to be armed?  G-d knows they are already dangerous. 

The National Rifle Association (NRA) would like to have the teachers packing heat.  I remember my junior high and high schools.  I can think of several teachers who might have jumped at the chance to carry a gun.  My children attended public school in both South Euclid and Shaker Heights.  I had to confront a bully, one teacher still working long past his sell-by date, and warn him to leave my kids alone.  He would be the first in line to carry a gun. 

Would our children be safer with more guns in schools?  I don’t think so.  An armed guard might deter some intruders, but certainly not someone on a suicide mission.  Do we hire rent-a-cops and let them carry service revolvers, or do we provide off duty policemen with assault rifles?  Do we limit our school buildings to only one door and eliminate all windows on the ground floor?  What do we need to do to keep our children safe while allowing just about anyone capable of fogging a mirror to possess unlimited firepower? 

And as I write this I know, I know, that there will be some people who will read the above and say, “Not Me.  I will be prepared”.  They might be licensed to carry a concealed weapon.  They might keep a gun in the car – just in case.  Or one in their bedroom.  And if we are lucky, no one will steal their guns.  And their kids won’t play with their guns.  And they won’t overreact and accidently shoot someone.  And they won’t feel threatened by an unarmed kid in a hoodie and shoot him.  And they won’t… 

The Supreme Court has determined that Americans have the right to keep a gun in their home for security. OK.  We all know people who hunt.  Again, not my thing, but I understand that hunting is part of the culture. 

I have no interest in eating a ham sandwich, but you having one has no impact on my life.  An assault rifle with a large magazine puts us all in danger. 

Last weekend we had the spectacle of Larry Ward, Chairman of Gun Appreciation Day, actually wonder if we would have had slavery “if the African-Americans had been given the right to bear arms”.  How do you respond to such ignorance? 

And it is many of those same people who are, at best, friends of convenience to both African-American and Jewish-American causes who would post this picture of Adolph Hitler with small children.  That picture of ignorance.

 

We Have A Winner

It is time to award the prizes.  Last December I posted the Everyone’s a Genius in Hindsight contest.  As usual, some of the loudest know-it-alls decided to forego the opportunity to prove their skills at predicting the future.  Fifteen of you did choose to take a chance at achieving Prognostication Nirvana.  

There was no cost to enter, but there were prizes.

1st Prize – $50 Gift Card to Shuhei or the restaurant of your choice

2nd Prize – Lunch with me 

Here are the ten questions with the correct answers.  My answer follows in (red). 

  1. The Republican nominee will be Mitt Romney(Mitt Romney)
  2. The winner of the 2012 Presidential election will be Barack Obama. (Barack Obama)
  3. The winner of the 2012 Ohio Senate race will be Sherrod Brown. (Sherrod Brown)
  4. The winner of the February 5, 2012 Super Bowl will be the New York Giants. (Green Bay Packers)
  5. The Cleveland Indians will win 68 (88) regular season games.
  6. The 2012 Cleveland Browns will win 5 (6) regular season games.
  7. The 2012 Academy Award for best picture will go to The Artist (The Descendants).
  8. The Dow Jones Industrial Average will close on December 28, 2012 at 12938 (12850).
  9. There will be 9 (9) justices of the US Supreme Court on December 31, 2012.
  10. A gallon of milk will be $2.99 (3.29) at Giant Eagle, Legacy village on June 30, 2012. 

Three of us had five correct answers.  Sally and I can’t win.  So this year’s genius in hindsight is Michael Saltzman.   Michael has chosen to receive a gift card from the Cedar Creek Grille in Beachwood.  Five people had four correct answers.  Through a complicated series of tie-breakers, Second Place goes to Tony Ramos. 

I would like to thank everyone who participated.  The 2014 mid-term elections may prove to be interesting.  I will host another contest next year

What I’ve Learned

Esquire found me.  I received a free subscription about ten years ago.  The magazine just showed up in my mailbox.  And when my trial subscription ended, I quickly sent a check.  Fashion, art, and politics are all covered as well, if not better, by Esquire than by any other publication.  It was the writing that got my attention and earned my money.  And it was Esquire’s interest in bringing different voices to every discussion that made it unique. 

Wayne LaPierre, Executive of Vice-President of the National Rifle Association (NRA), delivered his promised useful contribution to the national debate during Friday’s press conference.  The Newtown shootings were not due to the easy access to semiautomatic weapons or high capacity ammunition magazines.  No.  No.  No.  The cause of this disaster was the combination of violent video games, violent movies, and a mental health system that fails to monitor (and if possible control) the mentally ill.  But guns?  We need more. 

The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun. 

Wayne LaPierre wants us to install an armed guard in every school in the country.  That’s it.  Problem solved.  Others have floated the idea of arming the teachers.  The same people who spent the last election cycle lambasting our public school teachers now want to arm them! 

Would it be a bad idea to have armed guards at our schools?  Probably not.  Many of our middle schools and high schools have armed security.  But as Columbine and Virginia Tech showed, armed security is not a deterrent.   

Some people feel safer with a gun.  I feel safest when there are no guns nearby.  These are feelings.  You don’t legislate based simply on feelings. 

The January 2013 issue of Esquire arrived a few days ago.  An ongoing series called What I’ve Learned includes an October 5, 2012 interview by Cal Fussman of Lieutenant Brian Murphy.  Police officer Murphy was the first responder to the August 5, 2012 shooting at a Sikh temple.  Six people were killed.  Could have been seven.  Officer Murphy was shot fifteen times. 

The interview was not available online.  Allow me to summarize.  Murphy served five years in the Marine Corps.  He was a veteran police officer about to earn his Master’s Degree.  In other words, he was a trained, intelligent, experienced former marine / current cop who had had the best possible training.  He was not a rent-a-cop with a cap gun. 

And what happened? 

“We have AR-15’s in the squad car.  But there was a mal-function with the switch that releases the AR-15.  That’s Murphy’s Law.  If I’d had that semiautomatic rifle…”

“There’s a ballistic shield in the back of the car.  I should’ve grabbed the shield.  But I wasn’t thinking that way.” 

“I turned to where I thought he was gonna come from, went to attack him, but he flanked me.  I shouldn’t have let that happen.  I kick myself in the ass for letting that happen.” 

I read the October 5th interview twice.  This brave, experienced police lieutenant was out-gunned, out-flanked, and in the end, toyed with by a lone gunman.  Why did Wade Michael Page attack the Sikh temple?  We’ll never really know.  The second police officer to arrive on the scene shot and wounded Page.  The gunman then proceeded to shoot himself in the head. 

So what have I learned?  I learned that one guard, or one retired policeman, or one honorably discharged serviceman, will not guarantee a school’s safety. 

I learned that we may need guards, but that we also need to think about limiting access.  The guy who attached a crowded theater had a drum of ammo.  Does the Second Amendment guarantee that every American can amass an arsenal? 

We need to redraw the lines on the access to lethal weaponry. 

And I learned one more thing.  Pardeep Kalenka, the son of murdered Sikh temple president Satwant Singh Kalenka, taught Americathat “There’s no sanctuary in a temple on Sunday morning.  There’s no sanctuary at a Wendy’s you eat at with your family, at a grocery store, schools.  There’s just no sanctuary.” 

I hope we’re better than this.

You’re Safe, Until You Aren’t

I was in Las Vegas for my annual life insurance meeting.  I only go to Vegas for meetings. I‘m not much of a gambler, but I enjoy wandering through the casinos.  The art, the glitz, the dreamers lost in the potential to walk away rich while everyone around them is losing money – it is a people watcher’s bonanza.  And while you are watching, you are being watched.  There are cameras everywhere.  Some are in plain sight.  Some are hidden.  And there are the guys, the big guys, with earpieces patrolling the floor. 

I always feel safe when I’m in a casino. 

Nancy did everything she could to protect herself.  She had an extensive collection of guns and semi-automatic rifles.  And she knew how to use them.  Glock.  Sig Sauer,  Bushmaster.  Nancy had purchased all of them legally.  She was safe until she wasn’t.  She was killed with one of her instruments of protection. 

Adam inherited a cache of firearms that his mother no longer needed.  He loaded four of the weapons and drove to a near-by elementary school.  The school, Sandy Hook Elementary, was in session.  Students K – 4, teachers, and school employees – they were safe, until they weren’t.   

The school was locked.  He shot his way in.  He blew out a hole big enough to walk through.  Adam proceeded to murder the Principal, Dawn Hocksprung, who attempted to disarm him, five other adults, and twenty children.  The children, ages 6 and 7, were shot multiple times.  Early autopsy results reported that each child had been shot between 3 and 11 times with the high-powered rifle. 

And when he was done, Adam shot himself. 

Expressions of shock and condolences quickly appeared on Facebook and other social media sites.  Then the second guessing began. 

Gun control!  We need more gun control.  There are questions as to whether anyone really needs a Bushmaster .223 semi-automatic rifle.  Some call it an assault weapon.  Many Americans believe in background checks, waiting periods, and firearm registration.  These guns all passed those tests. 

What about metal detectors in all schools?  Adam shot his way into the school.  He wasn’t hiding anything. 

There is a picture of an Israeli teacher herding her young charges into a building, a rifle slung over her shoulder.  Why can’t we have guns in our schools?  For one, Israel has compulsory military service.  That teacher has been properly trained and she is protecting her students from a real threat, terrorists and suicide bombers who regularly target unarmed civilians.  For another, can we guarantee that a loaded weapon won’t find its way into the wrong hands?

 There were also the predictable calls for more religion in our public schools.  We would have healthier, happier, safer children if only THEIR version of G-d were taught in the schools.  We are supposed to forget all of the children who were ill-served and abused within the schools affiliated with one religion or another. 

Sometimes you just have to admit that there isn’t an easy answer.  Worse, there might not be any answer. 

Jessica worked for Vegas.com.  She wasn’t stuck in some cubicle.   She was stationed at the concierge desk in the Excalibur Hotel.  She was safe, until she wasn’t.  Last Friday, December 14th, a man walked up to her desk and before the cameras, the big guys with the earpieces, his G-d, and his country, he pulled out a gun and murdered Jessica.  And then he shot himself. 

We are all safe, until we aren’t.