Essay by Martha Quillen
Modern life – July 2004 – Colorado Central Magazine
T.S. Eliot once wrote “April is the cruelest month.” Whereas I would have said May. But Eliot went on:
“…breeding,
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.”
So maybe Eliot’s April is our May. After all, we do tend to be a little behind here in Central Colorado. By the time our lilacs bloom, the rest of the country is adorning statues with red poppies fashioned out of crepe paper.
We have company, though. Most Colorado mountain communities are behind. On the whole they’re higher, colder, more remote, and less accessible than front range cities.
And we’ve all come to count on that.
Recently, after a disgruntled citizen armor-plated a bulldozer and knocked down a large portion of Granby, another resident commented that it was like something that happened in the big city. As she saw it, things like that just didn’t occur in quiet little towns.
Yet Alma, population 200 (assuming you count a dozen or so cats and dogs) is the only other place I can recall where an angry citizen systematically knocked down buildings.
Those of us who live in little towns, however, or near them, tend to perceive ourselves as removed from the horrors of modern life. In fact, my own kids once insisted that a shoot-out like the one at Columbine High School could never happen in a small town.
Personally, I wasn’t so sure. After all, it only took two vindictive kids to launch that disaster, and we’ve had our fair share of contentious kids in Salida. In fact, once, many years ago, we had a grade-school boy who shot a little girl.
But that was back when people tended to think that “boys will be boys.” And even though some boys had to spend a lot of time in detention — or ever reform school — people seemed to expect things to work out.
Discipline is trickier, today, though. And most of us wouldn’t trust a parent, teacher, or administrator to know where to draw the line.
Thus we tend to let a lot of kids slide into mayhem. Then our courts try them as adults.
These days, Americans seem to think that societal decay is behind every offense, but people sure don’t agree on what’s causing it. Liberals usually blame racism, sexism, guns, and a culture of violence. While conservatives cite moral decline, promiscuity, and poor family values. And both parties insist that something should be done about Hollywood, rap music, and Britney Spears, but they also condemn censorship and extol freedom.
As for me?
I think all of this ridiculous political posturing is responsible for a lot of our problems.
THIS MAY, the parents of Dylan Klebold gave their first interview since the Columbine High School tragedy, and the resultant discussion quickly disintegrated into another mean-spirited stand-off.
The Klebolds said they didn’t like people announcing that they forgave them, because they hadn’t done anything.
But Dawn Anna, the mother of Lauren Townsend, a Columbine shooting victim, responded that she wanted an apology. And Brian Rohrbough, the father of another victim, responded that what went on in the Klebold home “led to Columbine.” And that’s fair enough, since Anna and Rohrbough certainly don’t owe the Klebolds anything.
But the Klebolds’ insistence that they didn’t do anything wrong seemed understandable enough — and one can’t help but suspect that it’s something they desperately need to believe. Tom and Susan Klebold readily admit that they missed signs indicating their son was seriously disturbed, but they insist that bullying caused Dylan’s problems.
The Klebolds’ defensiveness is annoying. But it’s unlikely that they’ll be raising any more psychopaths, so what’s the point of publicly flogging them again?
P ERSONALLY, I FOUND THIS renewed attempt to establish blame distasteful. If punishment is appropriate, then charges should be filed. When it’s not, let’s move on.
Equally irritating, though, was everyone’s claim that they just wanted to find out what really happened.
I think we all know what really happened. The answer is D: all of the above. Clearly, a bunch of things went wrong. Because, yes, there are bullies, and there are deranged kids; and there are parents who don’t see the signs, and parents who do see the signs but don’t know what to do. There are neighbors who don’t seem to be able to get any attention when they complain, and neighbors who complain so darned frequently that a lot of people quit listening. There are teachers who are unfair; and administrators who don’t notice problems; and police who don’t follow through; and rescue workers who aren’t sure who’s in charge.
And every time there’s a murder, there are people — parents, spouses, neighbors, police, or even counselors — who failed to realize the extent of the problem.
Mostly, however, there are people who make mistakes. And a surplus of mistakes, invites disaster.
Drive twenty miles over the speed limit during rush hour on a crowded freeway with bald tires and trouble beckons. So assuming that you want to improve your odds, you slow down and get your tires replaced (and stay out of traffic until you do).
In politics, however, there is usually an either/or proposition on the table — as if it were somehow contradictory to suggest that multiple factors can produce a problem.
In fact, people often get so busy arguing about exactly who or what caused a tragedy, that they don’t get around to reviewing whether simple remedies work. Do seminars, sociology classes, parental outreach programs, metal detectors, security officers, church attendance, athletic programs, academic enrichment, or more community involvement help?
Who knows?
You hear it all the time. We’ve got to do something about the kids. They’re wild, unmanageable, sex-crazed….
Hey, even out here, we watch enough television to know that modern kids are immoral; parents are self-indulgent; and society is falling apart.
But what difference does it make?
After all, the ozone layer is breaking up, the polar ice caps are melting, and we’re all going to drown soon, anyway.
And whose fault is that?
Well, it certainly couldn’t be because I drive a gas-guzzling SUV. No way. Clearly, it’s because all of those other people commute to work.
And so it goes — on and on. Americans just keep bashing their neighbors’ morals, values, ethics, and attitudes.
Sadly, I think we’ve all gotten caught up in an endless argument about whose fault everything is.
Thus back in April when the anniversary of the shootings at Columbine High School occurred, I thought about broaching the topic. But I resisted. Discussions about Columbine High School almost always degenerate into arguments about who’s to blame.
Besides, it dawned on me that a lot of people believe that it couldn’t happen here, and that’s kind of nice — so why rock the boat?
But then I started reading a book called Super Power Syndrome, and got seriously depressed. Even if murder and mayhem seldom happen here, I’m not sure that Central Colorado will remain unscathed in a nuclear war.
ELIOT WAS RIGHT: April is a miserable month. Taxes, alone, make it trying. And thinking about my 2003 finances plunged me into a blue funk. If you think Bush’s war is piling up the deficits…. In 2003, our stove, washer, and furnace died, and the pipe draining our bathtub broke in two and flooded the basement.
Add a few thousand dollars in dental bills and some other untoward expenses, and this past year turned into the fiscal period to forget. Thus, April was irksome — but it undoubtedly brought worse memories for others.
In fact, Eliot may have been prescient. In recent years, April has proven itself to be downright brutal. The shoot-out at the Branch Davidian complex in Waco happened in April; then the bombing of the Oklahoma City Federal Building; then the shoot-out at Columbine High School.
Now, a host of neo-conservatives have affiliated these events with Patriot’s Day, which used to be April 19 (but is now on the third Monday in April, which makes it like most American holidays: a commercial celebration and three-day weekend, rather than a real observance of anything). Originally, however, Patriot’s Day commemorated the Battles of Lexington and Concord and served as a New England holiday to honor the American Revolution.
But in our era, the people most likely to celebrate Patriot’s Day could care less about the last revolution. They’re too busy planning the next one.
Robert Jay Lifton, the author of Super Power Syndrome, claims that they are not unusual — because the notion that the world can be improved with violence is catching on. In fact, Dylan Klebold, Eric Harris, Tim McVeigh, Osama bin Laden, suicide bombers, you, me, and perhaps even our President, are probably all infected — at least to some extent — with the psychological condition that Lifton calls “super power syndrome.”
LIFTON, A PROFESSOR of psychiatry and psychology, feels that we’ve all been thoroughly steeped in apocalyptic fantasies. (And once he points it out, you can’t help but notice that they are ominously traditional. Frankenstein; Lord of the Rings; Star Wars; Buffy the Vampire Slayer: every time you turn on the television, someone seems to be battling the forces of evil.)
According to Lifton, apocalyptic leaders world-wide are nurturing visions of purification through fire, rebirth through death, the end of the world, holy wars, martyrdom…. The world is getting worse and worse, they rail, people are wicked, corrupt, degenerate; something must be done.
But Lifton doesn’t think all of this started recently. On the contrary, he characterizes the twentieth century as an era of violent excess from the Turkish genocide of more than a million Armenians in 1915 until its close. To make his case, Lifton cites mass murders by Hitler, Stalin, and Mao; the firebombing of Dresden; the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki; and subsequent events in Nam, Cambodia, Rwanda, and Yugoslavia.
And yes, I noticed: Lifton tends to be a trifle apocalyptic himself. But he believes that we’ve all been conditioned to accept the idea that violent conflict is a viable way to combat evil.
And now more and more people are coming to believe that they must participate in a final sacred battle for the forces of righteousness.
Lifton makes a frighteningly effective case for his theory. But his book didn’t wholly convince me.
Nope. Ben Nighthorse Campbell did that. In a recent Mountain Mail article, Campbell urged Coloradans to “defend America,” even though he believes that “we are in the early stages of a conflagration that could likely be the next World War.”
Apparently, no matter what the human costs or consequences, Campbell thinks it is our duty to fight Terror everywhere.
“The terrorists who attacked the World Trade Center….
“Those who bombed the military housing towers in Saudi Arabia and the U.S.S. Cole, those who blew up commuter trains in Spain and nightclubs in Bali….
“Terrorists declared they intend to fight until we are finished, however long that takes. They have the big picture view many Americans lack….
And perhaps Campbell is right. The idea of completely annihilating the world is a very big picture. And Islamic extremists regularly display their willingness to die — while Bin Laden praises Martyrdom and promises that Allah will reward all those who die in the fight against America.
But the terrorists don’t have the means or the weapons to escalate this conflict and spread it into every corner of the globe. Only America does. So is it our duty, as Campbell suggests, to embrace that same maniacal fury, and thereby launch WWIII?
Or is Lifton right? Does such a course constitute madness?
SOON, AMERICA must come to a decision. On June 30th, the War in Iraq changes course. Thus, it’s time to reevaluate our position. Should the U.S. continue its War on Terror. Or set it aside?
Today, numerous congressmen who have supported U.S. efforts in Afghanistan and Iraq, question President Bush’s War on Terror. And well they should. Fighting Terror presents a host of unique problems.
Although war against the government of a belligerent nation is sanctioned by international treaty and custom, that is not the situation in Iraq today. Military operations there target terrorists, but terrorists are not legal combatants; they are criminals who hide amidst the people, making it necessary to disrupt innocent populations in order to combat them.
Terrorists don’t necessarily abide by the rules of war; their targets are often not military; and they are difficult to identify. There’s also no clear end to a War on Terror. Weary, undersupplied armies usually surrender so that everybody can go home, but terrorists fight — even when they’re just a minuscule minority.
War means loss of life and property. War causes long-term — or perhaps even permanent — disruption of life and commerce. America’s War on Terror threatens not just enemies, it endangers friends, allies and innocents. War also focuses attention on renegade factions and gives them a means of recruitment.
Thus war may not be the most effective way to oppose terrorism. And there are other means, including: public trials; trained special forces; international agreements to expedite the apprehension, arrest, and extradition of terrorists; more sanctions against countries and corporations who do business with terrorists; discouraging recruitment of terrorists by refocusing attention on their victims; initiating a campaign to win the hearts and minds of populations vulnerable to terrorist takeover; and launching a concerted international effort to stamp out poverty, illiteracy, unemployment and other factors which make populations vulnerable.
No matter how many fanatics we kill, there will always be more, so America’s War on Terror could go on forever. And if we don’t stop it, that’s how the world will come to perceive us, not as agents of democracy, opportunity, and freedom, but as dealers of death and destruction.
I KNOW IT’S A LITTLE WEIRD to ramble on about my aversion to spring, Columbine High School, apocalyptic perspectives, and America’s War on Terror. But I hope that by throwing all of this stuff together, I can illustrate my point.
For decades, I’ve associated the month of May with death. Ed’s youngest brother died thirty years ago on May Day, and my father died twenty-five years ago on the Memorial Day weekend. By then I’d written scores of obituaries and had concluded — right or wrong — that more people died in the springtime.
This May, Ed and I attended a funeral for Alessandra Vigil. There was no rhyme nor reason for her death; she was eighteen years old, and a great kid: smart, hard-working, and going places (or at least it seemed that way). Ally’s parents were loving, she had plenty of friends, and her co-workers thought she was terrific — we know because our daughter worked with her for years.
In high school, Alessandra bussed tables at the First Street Café, and she always seemed friendly, vibrant, and exuberantly healthy. But in the end, she had an asthma attack and medical help didn’t arrive in time. Until then, Ally was the sort of kid that most of us never really worried about; we all figured that she was going to be just fine.
Ed’s brother was not so fortunate. He had muscular dystrophy and was confined to a wheelchair. But Philip was the sweetest kid I’ve ever known.
His life was not always easy. In fact, recalling his trials generally assures me that kids are not getting any worse these days. In grade school, Philip started worrying about leaving the house because he might run into other kids, and they would make fun of him. At school, they called him “skinny” and “bones.” They laughed, and made rude noises, and crudely imitated Philip’s clumsy struggles to pick objects up.
In sixth grade, a group of boys started dragging Philip out of his wheelchair, and turning him upside down to shake the change out of his pockets.
Then one day, another group of kids pushed his chair down a ramp, repeatedly, because they thought it was funny that it scared him. Finally, the wheelchair overturned and Philip’s leg was broken. That bone never healed properly, and it bothered him until the day he died.
Once a babysitter, with kids of her own, forgot about Philip and left him in the car all day.
But Philip never told his parents about any of it. And when his parents found out (often because instigators were so appalled, they confessed), Philip made excuses for his tormentors. They didn’t mean anything by it, he insisted. They just didn’t think.
When Philip died, dozens of young girls flocked to his funeral to tell his mother that he was the nicest boy they had ever met.
Later, a cousin told me that he was devastated by Phil’s funeral, because Philip was the only person he had ever known who was always nice.
I understood exactly what he meant. At home, Philip was gentle, funny, amazingly cheerful, and persistently upbeat. He adored riddles, and board games, and Snoopy — and he was so free of malice it was frightening. If Philip had lived through the month of May, he would have turned fourteen.
But life on earth always comes to an end.
That doesn’t mean that anyone should provoke an apocalypse, however.
On the contrary, Philip and Alessandra, Daniel Rohrbough and Lauren Townsend prove how wonderful children can be, and how glorious life really is.
Klebold and Harris were wrong; killing is not a solution. And in its sad aftermath, their horrifying spree has merely proven, once again, that human life is precious and love abides — even in a corrupt world and a flawed society.
