In Solidarity With Parkland, Florida
Like a lot of Americans, I have been paying close attention to the kids who survived the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. Itβs very unlikely that I will ever experience anything like what those kids have gone through. But when I watch their faces as they stand up and speak truth to the legislators who hold the power and responsibility for seeing that our schools are safe, and contemplate the need for society to do something to protect them, I see something in their postures and in their eyes that is vaguely familiar. Of course there is great emotion in what they are saying. They are courageous but, if you look closer, you can see a tiny shift in their eyes, an involuntary tilt of their heads, a little change in their balance, as if they are listening to the sound of a faint audible bell sounding in their heads. Β
Though it is barely comparable, I have had a glimpse of that look. Six weeks ago I returned home from a short, few hour trip into Rapid City. We live in a remote area at the end of miles of gravel roads and at the dead end of a two-mile-long driveway. We go weeks without seeing a car. When I came home that day, I expected to see my dog, Shiner, tearing around the corner of the horse barn to greet me. Heβs usually excited to go inside with me but, that day I saw no sign of him. It was cold and getting dark so I figured heβd weaseled his way into Erneyβs cabin, who is our old friend and dog caretaker. I really didnβt think much about it, just parked the car and walked past the horse barn to Erneyβs to collect him. When I asked Erney, he just shrugged. βHavenβt seen him. Havenβt seen anything, all day.β
We agreed that he was probably somewhere in the trees, exercising the rabbits. We talked for a few minutes and I made my way back to the house. By now it was almost dark and the light had become eerie. When I got to the house I found the front door wide open. I wasnβt sure what to think. I could only believe that I had inadvertently left the door open when Iβd left a few hours before. I stepped in and flipped on the light that illuminated the broken glass of picture frames that were scattered across the floor. I heard Shiner coming from the back bedroom. I initially went for the easy explanation: I left the door open, Shiner found it, came inside, and had a dog party in our house. But Shiner is not that kind of dog, he is not a Rottweiler or Doberman Pincher, he is a small, gentle, white English Setter, with a black patch around one eye. By then he was standing in the hallway, looking ashamed and as bewildered as I felt. A few more feet in and I noticed that the computer Iβd been on just a few hours before was gone. Drawers were gaped open and I walked to one of the open drawers and saw that my Colt revolver was gone. My walk down the hall showed more open drawers and missing electronics.
I had called Colton and went to the window when I heard him pull up to the shop (which he was going to check out when he arrived), and I stared out in disbelief, the ranch pick-up truck was gone. We had been robbed. Our wall of security had been breached. Our little Camelot had been violated. What had Shiner seen? His tail wagged in slow confusion. Thump, thump, thump against the wall.Β
In twenty years we had never locked a door, never taken the keys out of the ranch trucks. When Jill and Jilian showed up they stood staring at the damage gasping, that is when I first saw the troubled look that Iβve been seeing on the faces of kids from Marjory Stoneman Douglass High School. That faint bell was sounding, inside Jill and Jilianβs heads. It was fear, a loss of innocence, a recalculation of the order of our lives. Who did this? Meth heads? Crazies? Would they come back? Itβs a bell that could never be un-rung.
Weβd lost the pickup, the computer, stereo speakers, my kindle, cell phone, some jewelry, and the old Colt revolver that I had kept near me for forty years. Our family photos could be reframed and our photographed faces would again smile out into the room, but those faces would never be the same β they had now been changed. Β
It was clear that the greatest loss was something that could not be calculated. From the material realm, the insurance did not cover the pickup and after the deductible and depreciation values, the check was incredibly small. There was enough to cover all new door locks and a now needed security system, what was left over I reserved to buy a new pistol. Because I didnβt know what else to do, I walked over to the cabinet where the old Colt had always been, and put it in the drawer. It was a hollow gesture.
Very sad to hear that your ranch was vandalized. Our UIAD group from Grenoble (France) visited you at the end of june 2017.
Your welcome was so warm.
The place seemed beyond the reach of the folly of mankind that we can’t hardly belive such a malicious act.
I wish you to have the will to continue this beautiful activity.
First and foremost I am so sorry you and your family having suffered this type of violation on your home and being. We in rural America are subjected to the realm of βbad guysβ but for whatever reason it is a truly βdifferentβ feeling than what occurs in the urban areas. Yes I have witnessed it for a brief time in an urban area and that is why Iβm back home where I belong! Keeping you and yours in my thoughts and prayers. We Rural Folk are a resilient breed,,,,keep the faith Dan!
Glad everybody is ok.
Is there no safe place anymore? It is hard to conceive that something like that could happen out there. Having had a car vandalized and valuables stolen from it, and an attempted theft of my current van, I know all too well what you are feeling. But I live in a city where these things are, sadly, common occurrences. It makes me sad to hear that it has happened on your beautiful ranch. Some things can be replaced, you can even buy another gun, but your Colt can’t be replaced. And neither can your trust. I’m so sorry, Dan.
Dan,
Material things can be replaced. Thankfully, Shiner was ok. But the violation, the intrusion into your home, your sanctuary, your safe haven can never be undone. The uncertainty of whether it can happen again will always linger. The uncertainty and the feeling of insecurity are the real damages. Just like the students in Parkland, the uncertainty of whether school will ever be safe again will never leave them.
God bless you and your family! I am sorry you experienced that ordeal.