Friday’s horrific national tragedy -- the murder of 20 children and
six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut -- has
ignited a new discussion on violence in America. In kitchens and coffee shops
across the country, we tearfully debate the many faces of violence in America:
gun culture, media violence, lack of mental health services, overt and covert
wars abroad, religion, politics and the way we raise our children. Liza Long, a
writer based in Boise, says it’s easy to talk about guns. But it’s time to talk
about mental illness.
While every family's story of mental illness is
different, and we may never know the whole of the Lanza's story, tales like this
one need to be heard -- and families who live them deserve our help.
Three days before 20 year-old Adam Lanza killed his mother, then opened
fire on a classroom full of Connecticut kindergartners, my 13-year old son
Michael (name changed) missed his bus because he was wearing the wrong color
pants.
“I can wear these pants,” he said, his tone increasingly
belligerent, the black-hole pupils of his eyes swallowing the blue
irises.
“They are navy blue,” I told him. “Your school’s dress code says
black or khaki pants only.”
“They told me I could wear these,” he insisted.
“You’re a stupid bitch. I can wear whatever pants I want to. This is America. I
have rights!”
“You can’t wear whatever pants you want to,” I said, my
tone affable, reasonable. “And you definitely cannot call me a stupid bitch.
You’re grounded from electronics for the rest of the day. Now get in the car,
and I will take you to school.”
I live with a son who is mentally ill. I
love my son. But he terrifies me.
A few weeks ago, Michael pulled a knife
and threatened to kill me and then himself after I asked him to return his
overdue library books. His 7 and 9 year old siblings knew the safety plan --
they ran to the car and locked the doors before I even asked them to. I managed
to get the knife from Michael, then methodically collected all the sharp objects
in the house into a single Tupperware container that now travels with me.
Through it all, he continued to scream insults at me and threaten to kill or
hurt me.
That conflict ended with three burly police officers and a
paramedic wrestling my son onto a gurney for an expensive ambulance ride to the
local emergency room. The mental hospital didn’t have any beds that day, and
Michael calmed down nicely in the ER, so they sent us home with a prescription
for Zyprexa and a follow-up visit with a local pediatric psychiatrist.
We
still don’t know what’s wrong with Michael. Autism spectrum, ADHD, Oppositional
Defiant or Intermittent Explosive Disorder have all been tossed around at
various meetings with probation officers and social workers and counselors and
teachers and school administrators. He’s been on a slew of antipsychotic and
mood altering pharmaceuticals, a Russian novel of behavioral plans. Nothing
seems to work.
At the start of seventh grade, Michael was accepted to an
accelerated program for highly gifted math and science students. His IQ is off
the charts. When he’s in a good mood, he will gladly bend your ear on subjects
ranging from Greek mythology to the differences between Einsteinian and
Newtonian physics to Doctor Who. He’s in a good mood most of the time. But when
he’s not, watch out. And it’s impossible to predict what will set him
off.
Several weeks into his new junior high school, Michael began
exhibiting increasingly odd and threatening behaviors at school. We decided to
transfer him to the district’s most restrictive behavioral program, a contained
school environment where children who can’t function in normal classrooms can
access their right to free public babysitting from 7:30-1:50 Monday through
Friday until they turn 18.
The morning of the pants incident, Michael
continued to argue with me on the drive. He would occasionally apologize and
seem remorseful. Right before we turned into his school parking lot, he said,
“Look, Mom, I’m really sorry. Can I have video games back today?”
“No
way,” I told him. “You cannot act the way you acted this morning and think you
can get your electronic privileges back that quickly.”
His face turned
cold, and his eyes were full of calculated rage. “Then I’m going to kill
myself,” he said. “I’m going to jump out of this car right now and kill
myself.”
That was it. After the knife incident, I told him that if he
ever said those words again, I would take him straight to the mental hospital,
no ifs, ands, or buts. I did not respond, except to pull the car into the
opposite lane, turning left instead of right.
“Where are you taking me?”
he said, suddenly worried. “Where are we going?”
“You know where we are
going,” I replied.
“No! You can’t do that to me! You’re sending me to
hell! You’re sending me straight to hell!”
I pulled up in front of the
hospital, frantically waiving for one of the clinicians who happened to be
standing outside. “Call the police,” I said. “Hurry.”
Michael was in a
full-blown fit by then, screaming and hitting. I hugged him close so he couldn’t
escape from the car. He bit me several times and repeatedly jabbed his elbows
into my rib cage. I’m still stronger than he is, but I won’t be for much
longer.
The police came quickly and carried my son screaming and kicking
into the bowels of the hospital. I started to shake, and tears filled my eyes as
I filled out the paperwork -- “Were there any difficulties with… at what age did
your child… were there any problems with.. has your child ever experienced..
does your child have…”
At least we have health insurance now. I recently
accepted a position with a local college, giving up my freelance career because
when you have a kid like this, you need benefits. You’ll do anything for
benefits. No individual insurance plan will cover this kind of thing.
For
days, my son insisted that I was lying -- that I made the whole thing up so that
I could get rid of him. The first day, when I called to check up on him, he
said, “I hate you. And I’m going to get my revenge as soon as I get out of
here.”
By day three, he was my calm, sweet boy again, all apologies and
promises to get better. I’ve heard those promises for years. I don’t believe
them anymore.
On the intake form, under the question, “What are your
expectations for treatment?” I wrote, “I need help.”
And I do. This
problem is too big for me to handle on my own. Sometimes there are no good
options. So you just pray for grace and trust that in hindsight, it will all
make sense.
I am sharing this story because I am Adam Lanza’s mother. I
am Dylan Klebold’s and Eric Harris’s mother. I am James Holmes’s mother. I am
Jared Loughner’s mother. I am Seung-Hui Cho’s mother. And these boys—and their
mothers—need help. In the wake of another horrific national tragedy, it’s easy
to talk about guns. But it’s time to talk about mental illness.
According
to Mother Jones, since 1982, 61 mass murders involving firearms have occurred
throughout the country. Of these, 43 of the killers were white males, and only
one was a woman. Mother Jones focused on whether the killers obtained their guns
legally (most did). But this highly visible sign of mental illness should lead
us to consider how many people in the U.S. live in fear, like I do.
When
I asked my son’s social worker about my options, he said that the only thing I
could do was to get Michael charged with a crime. “If he’s back in the system,
they’ll create a paper trail,” he said. “That’s the only way you’re ever going
to get anything done. No one will pay attention to you unless you’ve got
charges.”
I don’t believe my son belongs in jail. The chaotic environment
exacerbates Michael’s sensitivity to sensory stimuli and doesn’t deal with the
underlying pathology. But it seems like the United States is using prison as the
solution of choice for mentally ill people. According to Human Rights Watch, the
number of mentally ill inmates in U.S. prisons quadrupled from 2000 to 2006, and
it continues to rise -- in fact, the rate of inmate mental illness is five times
greater (56 percent) than in the non-incarcerated population.
With
state-run treatment centers and hospitals shuttered, prison is now the last
resort for the mentally ill -- Rikers Island, the LA County Jail and Cook County
Jail in Illinois housed the nation’s largest treatment centers in
2011.
No one wants to send a 13-year old genius who loves Harry Potter
and his snuggle animal collection to jail. But our society, with its stigma on
mental illness and its broken healthcare system, does not provide us with other
options. Then another tortured soul shoots up a fast food restaurant. A mall. A
kindergarten classroom. And we wring our hands and say, “Something must be
done.”
I agree that something must be done. It’s time for a meaningful,
nation-wide conversation about mental health. That’s the only way our nation can
ever truly heal.
God help me. God help Michael. God help us all.
++
Real Minutemen, Rise Up!
Gary Hart,
HuffPo
12/16/2012
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/gary-hart/assault-weapons-nra_b_2312102.html
It may take the slaughter of small children to finally prompt true
minutemen to separate themselves from gun extremists. The U.S. Supreme Court has
ruled that gun ownership is guaranteed by the Constitution and an estimated 300
million guns of various kinds are at large in the nation. It is not realistic to
expect a gun-less America.
But, whatever else the Second Amendment may or
may not mean, it is posited on a "well-regulated militia," a militia mentioned
three times in the Constitution. Most hunters and gun owners do not own nor wish
to own military assault weapons. They see no need for them. They do not want
them. They do not believe such weapons fulfill any perceived need for home
security or hunting.
The National Rifle Association, which claims to
speak for America's gun owners, makes only one argument for assault weapons: if
"they" take away our assault weapons, then "they" will come for our sporting
guns. Never mind that the mysterious "they," purposely left vague to serve the
needs of paranoia, is the government of the United States whose president and
members of Congress are all elected by a majority of American
citizens.
Outside the arena of combat, assault weapons serve no plausible
purpose. To justify private ownership of combat weapons, therefore, a military
purpose must be imagined.
The needs of paranoia require fear, fear that
embraces black helicopters, abdication of U.S. sovereignty, U.N. government, and
assumption of power by the Trilateral Commission.
Assault weapons are
required to prevent this take over. What the U.S. Army is doing while all this
is happening is never quite clear.
Most sportsmen don't believe this. Yet
their dues are being used to promote these fantasies. Let's have a new, sober,
serious, non-paranoid gun organization whose members are the sane, thoughtful,
responsible sportsmen who share the belief of the vast majority of Americans
that assault weapons have no place in U.S. society. These mature minutemen also
share the belief that state licensing of weapons, checks for criminal and mental
backgrounds, and elimination of unregulated gun shows are necessary for a secure
society.
We continue to spend hundreds of billions, even trillions, of
tax dollars to achieve the elusive goal of national security. The movie-goers of
Aurora, the little children of Newtown, were not secure. Those children are just
as dead as if al Qaeda had killed them. Killing children is not a political
issue: it is a moral issue.
The militia of the Constitution, now the
National Guard and Reserve forces, are composed of serious, responsible
citizens. Many are hunters and fishermen. They do not require an organization
with a central message of paranoia to represent them. They should now form their
own organization to speak for them and the great majority of gun owners would
join them. ++
Obama Newtown Speech: President Addresses Vigil
For Sandy Hook Shooting Victims
(FULL TEXT)
12/16/2012
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12/16/obama-newtown-speech_n_2313295.html
President Obama spoke at a prayer vigil in Newton, Connecticut on
Sunday in honor of the victims of the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary
School.
Below, read Obama's full remarks as provided by the White House:
THE PRESIDENT: Thank you. (Applause.) Thank you, Governor.
To all the families, first responders, to the community of Newtown, clergy,
guests -- Scripture tells us: “…do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are
wasting away…inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and
momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them
all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what
is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. For we know that if the
earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal
house in heaven, not built by human hands.”
We gather here in memory of
twenty beautiful children and six remarkable adults. They lost their lives in a
school that could have been any school; in a quiet town full of good and decent
people that could be any town in America.
Here in Newtown, I come to
offer the love and prayers of a nation. I am very mindful that mere words cannot
match the depths of your sorrow, nor can they heal your wounded hearts. I can
only hope it helps for you to know that you’re not alone in your grief; that our
world too has been torn apart; that all across this land of ours, we have wept
with you, we’ve pulled our children tight. And you must know that whatever
measure of comfort we can provide, we will provide; whatever portion of sadness
that we can share with you to ease this heavy load, we will gladly bear it.
Newtown -- you are not alone.
As these difficult days have unfolded,
you’ve also inspired us with stories of strength and resolve and sacrifice. We
know that when danger arrived in the halls of Sandy Hook Elementary, the
school’s staff did not flinch, they did not hesitate. Dawn Hochsprung and Mary
Sherlach, Vicki Soto, Lauren Rousseau, Rachel Davino and Anne Marie Murphy --
they responded as we all hope we might respond in such terrifying circumstances
-- with courage and with love, giving their lives to protect the children in
their care.
We know that there were other teachers who barricaded
themselves inside classrooms, and kept steady through it all, and reassured
their students by saying “wait for the good guys, they’re coming”; “show me your
smile.”
And we know that good guys came. The first responders who raced
to the scene, helping to guide those in harm’s way to safety, and comfort those
in need, holding at bay their own shock and trauma because they had a job to do,
and others needed them more.
And then there were the scenes of the
schoolchildren, helping one another, holding each other, dutifully following
instructions in the way that young children sometimes do; one child even trying
to encourage a grown-up by saying, “I know karate. So it’s okay. I’ll lead the
way out.” (Laughter.)
As a community, you’ve inspired us, Newtown. In the
face of indescribable violence, in the face of unconscionable evil, you’ve
looked out for each other, and you’ve cared for one another, and you’ve loved
one another. This is how Newtown will be remembered. And with time, and God’s
grace, that love will see you through.
But we, as a nation, we are left
with some hard questions. Someone once described the joy and anxiety of
parenthood as the equivalent of having your heart outside of your body all the
time, walking around. With their very first cry, this most precious, vital part
of ourselves -- our child -- is suddenly exposed to the world, to possible
mishap or malice. And every parent knows there is nothing we will not do to
shield our children from harm. And yet, we also know that with that child’s very
first step, and each step after that, they are separating from us; that we won’t
-- that we can’t always be there for them. They’ll suffer sickness and setbacks
and broken hearts and disappointments. And we learn that our most important job
is to give them what they need to become self-reliant and capable and resilient,
ready to face the world without fear.
And we know we can’t do this by
ourselves. It comes as a shock at a certain point where you realize, no matter
how much you love these kids, you can’t do it by yourself. That this job of
keeping our children safe, and teaching them well, is something we can only do
together, with the help of friends and neighbors, the help of a community, and
the help of a nation. And in that way, we come to realize that we bear a
responsibility for every child because we’re counting on everybody else to help
look after ours; that we’re all parents; that they’re all our children.
This is our first task -- caring for our children. It’s our first job.
If we don’t get that right, we don’t get anything right. That’s how, as a
society, we will be judged.
And by that measure, can we truly say, as a
nation, that we are meeting our obligations? Can we honestly say that we’re
doing enough to keep our children -- all of them -- safe from harm? Can we
claim, as a nation, that we’re all together there, letting them know that they
are loved, and teaching them to love in return? Can we say that we’re truly
doing enough to give all the children of this country the chance they deserve to
live out their lives in happiness and with purpose?
I’ve been reflecting
on this the last few days, and if we’re honest with ourselves, the answer is no.
We’re not doing enough. And we will have to change.
Since I’ve been
President, this is the fourth time we have come together to comfort a grieving
community torn apart by a mass shooting. The fourth time we’ve hugged survivors.
The fourth time we’ve consoled the families of victims. And in between, there
have been an endless series of deadly shootings across the country, almost daily
reports of victims, many of them children, in small towns and big cities all
across America -- victims whose -- much of the time, their only fault was being
in the wrong place at the wrong time.
We can’t tolerate this anymore.
These tragedies must end. And to end them, we must change. We will be told that
the causes of such violence are complex, and that is true. No single law -- no
set of laws can eliminate evil from the world, or prevent every senseless act of
violence in our society.
But that can’t be an excuse for inaction.
Surely, we can do better than this. If there is even one step we can take to
save another child, or another parent, or another town, from the grief that has
visited Tucson, and Aurora, and Oak Creek, and Newtown, and communities from
Columbine to Blacksburg before that -- then surely we have an obligation to try.
In the coming weeks, I will use whatever power this office holds to
engage my fellow citizens -- from law enforcement to mental health professionals
to parents and educators -- in an effort aimed at preventing more tragedies like
this. Because what choice do we have? We can’t accept events like this as
routine. Are we really prepared to say that we’re powerless in the face of such
carnage, that the politics are too hard? Are we prepared to say that such
violence visited on our children year after year after year is somehow the price
of our freedom?
All the world’s religions -- so many of them represented
here today -- start with a simple question: Why are we here? What gives our life
meaning? What gives our acts purpose? We know our time on this Earth is
fleeting. We know that we will each have our share of pleasure and pain; that
even after we chase after some earthly goal, whether it’s wealth or power or
fame, or just simple comfort, we will, in some fashion, fall short of what we
had hoped. We know that no matter how good our intentions, we will all stumble
sometimes, in some way. We will make mistakes, we will experience hardships. And
even when we’re trying to do the right thing, we know that much of our time will
be spent groping through the darkness, so often unable to discern God’s heavenly
plans.
There’s only one thing we can be sure of, and that is the love
that we have -- for our children, for our families, for each other. The warmth
of a small child’s embrace -- that is true. The memories we have of them, the
joy that they bring, the wonder we see through their eyes, that fierce and
boundless love we feel for them, a love that takes us out of ourselves, and
binds us to something larger -- we know that’s what matters. We know we’re
always doing right when we’re taking care of them, when we’re teaching them
well, when we’re showing acts of kindness. We don’t go wrong when we do that.
That’s what we can be sure of. And that’s what you, the people of
Newtown, have reminded us. That’s how you’ve inspired us. You remind us what
matters. And that’s what should drive us forward in everything we do, for as
long as God sees fit to keep us on this Earth.
“Let the little children
come to me,” Jesus said, “and do not hinder them -- for to such belongs the
kingdom of heaven.”
Charlotte. Daniel. Olivia. Josephine. Ana. Dylan.
Madeleine. Catherine. Chase. Jesse. James. Grace. Emilie. Jack. Noah. Caroline.
Jessica. Benjamin. Avielle. Allison.
God has called them all home. For
those of us who remain, let us find the strength to carry on, and make our
country worthy of their memory.
May God bless and keep those we’ve lost
in His heavenly place. May He grace those we still have with His holy comfort.
And may He bless and watch over this community, and the United States of
America. (Applause.) ++
“I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final
word in reality. That is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil
triumphant.”
~ The Reverand Martin Luther King
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