Life Can Change With A Breath

It has been thirteen years since it happened. April 20, 1999 is a day that has gone down in history. Some know the date but slowly it’s being forgotten. For me, it will always be a date I will remember.



I was eleven and in the 5th grade. I remember that I was going to daycare when school let out which means that I would go to the front porch and wait until one of the daycare staff members came and got me. But this day we didn’t go to the porch. We stayed downstairs and we were told we would be picked up there. Odd. But I continued to play with my friends. When we were picked up we went through the building rather than the faster way outside. We were told to stay quiet as possible and we were ushered into the main room. There we had a movie put on in a low sound and all the lights were turned off. We never watched movies unless it was raining and even then it was a rarity. I asked the other kids around me what was going on. One significantly younger than me told me something bad had happened in another school and they turned off the lights because they didn’t want the bad guys to come in through them. Ridiculous and childish and I recognized that but still my blood went cold. Something was terribly wrong.



When my mom came and picked me up. She had been crying and she had to explain to me that when we went home things would be different. As we turned the corner onto Quincy headed towards our home I saw the helicopters, I saw the police cars, and I saw the media. I turned on the TV and my mom and I sat in silence as images of students flinging themselves from windows and others crying filled the screen. There was a shooting down the street at Columbine High School. The high school that all the neighborhood kids went to, the high school my cousin had talked about wanting to go to. I cried with her and tried to imagine what it was like. As I brushed my teeth that night an eerie light shown through our bathroom window… it was small and I know in hindsight it is brighter then what it actually was. But to me the lights of the school staying on well past the time students would have left could have been a spotlight directed straight at me. I tried to sleep but the nightmares came, even at eleven I thought I had too much pride to sleep in mom and dad’s bed… but that night pride had gone and it remained gone for weeks afterwards. As I snuggled close to my mom a loud bang shook the community, it was the final bomb going off from the car in the parking lot. With that the shooting had ended but the rattling that shook us would never truly leave.



The next day was a blur, we didn’t have school, and so I went to my grandma’s house to spend it with my cousin. I was glued to the TV, she begged me to go outside and play but I told her that these were my neighbors and that was my neighborhood. That night we went to Clement Park and looked at the tents that had been set up, tents for each of the students. Personalized with what they loved. Cars lined the grass, cars with flowers, stuffed animals, letters, and the emptiness of never having their rightful owner drive them again. We all cried. We didn’t know each other but in that moment we all did. Going to McDonald’s changed… with our meals they handed out stickers. Stickers that said “we are all columbine” the slogan for the tragedy to unite us…a slogan that has become a part of me. A part of me will always be with Columbine.



Some wonder why it changed me so much. I didn’t know anyone personally that was killed, although now I feel like I did with some of them. I didn’t even know anyone that was shot. My neighbor was but I haven’t even said two words to him. And yet if I had to pinpoint a life changing day this is one of the first ones that come to mind. To me this is the day that 15 people were killed and along with their deaths was the death of my innocence. Not many can pinpoint that exact moment they grew up the most, the moment where barbies began to fade, the moment where the maturity of knowing how big the world is and how you are not the center of it, and the moment when you realize that beautiful world you live in is different than what you had seen while chasing the butterflies. I can.



Over the next couple weeks more and more information came out about the killers. They were two boys who were “teased” they were members of the trench coat mafia, they watched the “matrix” and that’s where they got the idea to hide guns under their coats, they listened to marylin Manson. The boys worked at black jack, the one down the street from me and one that I walked past every single day while going to school my junior and senior year. They also worked at the firework stand up the street and that is where they got all of their gunpowder. That was the part that hit home the most. I remembered them. We had bought our fireworks from them. I don’t know why I would remember them almost a full year later but I did and I still see their faces in that tent. They looked ordinary, they were just two boys who were working there to earn more money, I thought. Never would you have guessed they would cause so much chaos and so much heartache. And that is when it hit me that the bad guys were not the masked images we saw on TV, they were not the villains of the Disney movies, the bad guys were normal people. The bad guys were us. This thought shook me to my core and I retreated into myself. If these two boys could be bad, I told myself, then I could be bad. I refused to listen to Marylin Manson ever, still do not. I still have not watched the Matrix. Years later I know that these were not the cause of the evil that came out of them. And now we realize that all of these things were not even true. However, at the time it didn’t matter to me. They were true then and I didn’t want to become evil. I began to think of different ways people could be killed, a morbid thought for an eleven year old. However, I was convinced that I could become evil like the hulk would transform. I wouldn’t see it.



After weeks of talking with my parents I realize that it was ridiculous but my innocence was still loss in the halls of Columbine High School. It has been 13 years, I have graduated from high school and college. My life has taken me from Colorado and to Florida. Yet, not a week passes that, that school doesn’t come to mind. Not a month passes where I don’t wonder how our world and my world would have been different if those boys had been taken by the light instead of the darkness. One of my favorite movie quotes (yes, another one) is from the movie, “Where the Heart Is”. Ashley Judd asks Natalie Portman what to tell her kids in regards to the man that did horrific things to them, a man they trusted, “You tell them that our lives can change with every breath we take… and tell ‘em to hold on like hell to what they’ve got. You tell them we’ve got meanness in us, but we’ve got goodness in us too. And the only thing worth living for is the good. And that’s why we’ve got to make sure to pass it on.” Eric Harris and Dylan Kleabold took a lot that day, but out of smoke rose goodness. Rachel Scott’s incredible attitude and heart have lived on through a movement that her family continues on, so many of the students had passions and dreams that were so many years beyond themselves and with that they have lived years beyond themselves. We all have meanness in us but we have good too. Which will you choose to show today? We are all Columbine. I will always be with Columbine.

Books

I love books. There is nothing more that I enjoy doing then going to a book store when I have a bad day. I walk in and leave my cell phone in the car. Instantly the smell hits you. The smell of coffee from the café, the smell of fresh paper, and the smell of escape. You look around and people line the tables with their computers and different novels. Headphones are in every ear and a coffee cup in front of every person. No one speaks to each other but you feel similar and you feel like you belong.



I walk the rows and brush my fingers on the books. I touch the new spines and feel my problems fall into their pages. In here the loans, the bills, the fights, the work schedule, all of it fades away. Instead I begin to be engulfed by the financial situation of Oliver Twist, I become a member of the society in 1984, I battle with the Bronte sisters on why their books are so dark and which one really is the better writer. I listen to Nick tell me all about this bizarre man named Gatsby and I sit with Jane Austin and together; her and I become entranced by a happy ending she didn’t get and one that I so often question I will.



Books are so much more then the stories written on the page. They are the stories written in between the pages.

The stories of the authors that poured years into them, along with their hearts, minds, and sometimes sanity. They are the stories of those who have read them before me. The lives that were changed because of them. The Feminist movement being changed by the Feminine Mystique, finally allowing women to be understood and heard in a way they didn’t even know they felt. The Color Purple and The Help allowing us to see a glimpse into the old way of things. Books are a way for us to look into the past as well as imagine a future that falls short after the turn of the page. They allow us to escape reality and run away to Narnia, or Hogwarts.

Books are our stories, they capture the moments in our lives as we read them. They can touch us in the most unexpected ways. They can change us without us realizing it. Allow yourselves to be taken over and transformed.

If only I had an enemy as big as my apathy

On June 5, 2002 America was shaken by a story that was flooding the news. A 14 year old girl was abducted straight out of her bed. Nine months later Elizabeth Smart was found alive in the custody of her abductors badly shaken and with stories most wish to not hear. Viewers were glued to the tv trying to imagine what it was like to be taken out of a place we normally feel so safe. Our homes, our beds, it's where we feel most comfortable. A bad breakup? We go to our beds. Sick? We go to our beds. How could this happen to a little girl. America wanted to punish who had taken her. The world wanted justice.
Now imagine with me that there are over a 100,000 children taken out of their beds just like Elizabeth but instead of being taken and found alive 9 months later they are taken and never seen again. They are forced to pick up guns and join a cause they never really understood... at 6 years old what cause do you really understand? Imagine, a little girl being continuously raped by a group of men and passed around like a rag doll. Now imagine that this is going on for 45 years and you finally have a glimpse of the horror of what has been going on in Uganda.
Kony 2012. It's all over the internet... the video, posters, pictures, arguments, it's the latest "charlie bit my finger" video. With 79 million views in the last week I think it's an understatement to say it's gone viral. However, sadly unlike charlie with this video comes scrutiny. Invisible Children is an organization that has been around since 2003 when a group of young people went to Uganda to discover the horror that was occurring with the LRA and it's ring leader Joseph Kony. The truth of the matter is that over the past 45 years Kony has been the tyrant that haunts our dreams. The LRA is the longest continuing rebel force in existence. Children have been ripped out of their homes and the only way they have to avoid it is to continuously move and try to become... invisible. And to the world they were just that they were the invisible children of Africa. No one had any idea this was going on. While I was growing up with my barbies and my brother was running around playing "battle" with his friends, boys his age were living it and little girls my age were the dolls.
In the first video the boys introduced us to Jacob. A boy who wanted to grow up and be a lawyer but didn't have the money to go to school. Then he told us the story of his brother, who was taken by the LRA and killed. My heart broke for it. I remember watching "Band of Brothers" and the episode "Why we fight" and thinking how could the people in the city around the concentration camp smell that, hear the cries, and see what was going on and do nothing? We try to blame it on ignorance. "It was a different time" "we had no idea what was going on, on this side of the world." Ok. What's our excuse now?
The criticisms that come with "invisible children" and Kony 2012 are numerous. Many argue that the organization only donates 35% of it's profits to the actual organization. A fact that my research has sadly confirmed. Many argue that we have our own problems in America to deal with and we shouldn't be fighting other's battles. An argument that makes me more sad then any other. Have we fallen so far from our Christian roots that this is what we believe? That we are divided by our location rather then united by our humanity? I guess this could be the argument for the Holocaust as well, they are the Jews in other countries... let's fight our war and leave them for others. Millions are dying but they are not our millions. Some argue that nothing can be done to stop him.
Here is what it comes down to. Will donating money to "Invisible Children" do anything? Apparently not as much as you would hope. Should you do it anyway? If this is something you are passionate about then yes. You are donating it in hopes that this will be donated to them. Will it go to them? Who knows? Who knows where our money ever goes? It's not ours to start of with. Everything is God's. I personally, will probably not be donating money towards this organization because it bothers me but I don't condemn those who do. It IS our battle because our battle is stop injustice. Our battle is to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves... but along with that we need to understand that we are not the knights in shining armor to the poor helpless African people. History has proven that African's are anything but helpless, they are fully capable people. However, similar to other genocide's it's not about playing hero's, it's about doing what is right.
Can we stop him? Can I stop him? Yes. Am I just one person, yes... but to quote Finding Neverland "'He can't climb that mountain, he's just a man', or 'That's not a diamond, it's just a rock.' Just." We may be just one but just one voice combined with others can make a beautiful choir. One person armed with a shofar and a cause can tear down walls with God on our side.
We can't be ignorant to think that capturing Joseph Kony will stop this or the LRA. He is one man and this is an organization and a rebel group that is far beyond him. But stopping him is the start. And stopping him comes with making him known and raising awareness on what is going on.

This video may be annoying you... it may frusterate you to no end the ignorance of some thinking that buying a 30 dollar kit will end a war that is nearly 50 years old and stretches to complications we will never fully understand. However, it is forcing a generation that is all about texting, reality tv shows, partying, social media, and their dreams to look beyond themselves. I am seeing my generation join together for a cause. And despite every argument I cannot find a fault in that.
You are one person, but you are one person with a voice. Use it. Don't go buy the 30 dollar kit and sneak out in the middle of the night on April 20th and join others in "blanketing" the city with Kony if it isn't something you agree with. But do not condemn those who want to fight injustice and play their part. Click share on the Kony 2012 video... it's raising awareness... it's forcing us to look beyond ourselves and it takes two seconds. Do not let apathy be our biggest enemy. So many battles have to be fought and so many are suffering and it can often be overwhelming but we can do it... with strength not our own.