Clowns

1) One of the co-owners of my health club, Larry, has a friend who paints houses. This friend and his partner were working a job directly across Pierce Street from Columbine when all hell broke loose. The police began ferrying the wounded - some seriously wounded - across the street and onto the lawns. They instructed the painters to get to work applying direct pressure to minimize bleeding. Soon, the two painters were up to their elbows in blood with about ten kids. Two television cameraman showed up. The painters yelled at them to roll up their sleeves and pitch in. They refused. Apparently, they prefered filming a kid bleeding to death over saving a life. I wonder whether their employer paid them a bonus for their work that day?

2) The local television stations stayed with the story, almost continuously, well into the evening. I watched the television at my terminal, with my co-workers, until 5:30. Then, I went to the home of my best friend, Bill Wright, a teacher at Lakewood High School.

As the horrible event unfolded, one of the anchormen never missed an opportunity to remind us that the Columbine area 'is such a nice neighborhood.' Every horrible detail elicited the same blood-curdling vacuity from the anchor. One could almost see the Grant Ranch developers - those touting their investment as 'the last great place' - pulling the anchor's puppet strings. I looked at Bill and said, "The denial machine is working at full capacity, today."

3) Shortly after the massacre, a local talk show host, Jay Marvin, encouraged kids to call in. He thought it was time for adults to begin listening to kids. I seldom pay attention to talk shows. But my ears perked up for this show.

A young man, probably a teenager, called in to offer the opinion that kids nowadays face the dilemma of NOT having new frontiers to discover. I think he wanted to develop the point that destruction is the only form of meaningful activity left. I'll never know because the host shut him down immediately: "I don't buy that! There are always new worlds to discover!" The kid clammed up. I don't recall any others calling in after that. So much for letting the kids talk!

Now, whether you agree with the kid or not, you must admit that he should have been allowed to develop his point - especially given that the host had urged the kids to call in. But Jay Marvin, like most talk radio hosts, simply refused to yield center stage.

And don't you think his remark was rather flippant? Did our host discover a vaccine for polio, this week? Climb the Matterhorn? Cross the Continental Divide in a Conestoga wagon? Land on the moon? Plant a flag on Iwo Jima? Sail to China on a Yankee Cliper? Charge up San Juan Hill? No, of course not. And, sorry, I don't think today's youth will find much inspiration in the adventures of another insensitive radio talk show host.

4) I watched a few minutes of the memorial service the Sunday after. The southern end of Jefferson County is loaded with evangelicals. Naturally, they invited Franklin Graham to speak. I listened to a few sentences reminding everyone that only through the Savior Jesus Christ can there be peace. He was preaching to the choir. I've heard it all before, so I turned off the television and went upstairs to read a book.

In the paper the next day, I read that a local rabbi 'felt disenfranchised' by Preacher Graham's remarks. I nearly fainted from the blood rushing to my temples! Imagine! One of the lost boys, the son of a Jewish mother, worshipped Adolf Hitler! The entire Jewish community, all of us (and especially the rabbinical order) have failed miserably. How could we have nourished this viper in our bosom - this dagger aimed at our hearts - and never known? For a rabbi to spare a single moment, expend a single neural impulse, critiquing the oratory of a competitor under these circumstances is vanity of galactic breadth!

5) When a new President takes office, most Americans wish him well. On January 20, 1993, my goodwill toward President Clinton was probably deeper than average (even though I voted for Perot). I felt that President Bush was a phoney and that President Reagan had bankrupted the country. I admired President Clinton's intellect. I thought he might turn out to be like President Kennedy, someone classy and poised.

But, more than any of that, I was impressed by the fact that he was from Arkansas. My family lived in Little Rock during the desegregation crisis at Central High School. The Governor at the time, Orville Faubus, made a fool of himself (and the state) by his words and deeds supporting the racists. My English mother thought she was living with extra-terrestrials during those years in Little Rock. When President Clinton was inaugurated, she smiled and shook her head, saying, "I can't believe this man is from Arkansas."

I am glad President Clinton survived the impeachment ordeal. Hopefully, we have had our fill of gutter politics and honey traps. But, I am still disappointed with the man. During the campaign, his enemies used Gennifer Flowers to fire a shot across his bow. He should have realized that he would have to give up the womanizing for the duration of his Presidency. He failed to do so. Apparently, his urges take precedence over all other considerations - including the dignity of the office.

At Dakota Ridge High School, President Clinton addressed the Columbine students. Afterward, he shook hands with all of the boys and hugged the girls, who noticed the difference in physical treatment. Sad, isn't it?

6) On August 16th, I transported some Columbine kids up to Windy Peak, one of Jeffco's outdoor education schools. We departed from Colorow Elementary to avoid the press circus at the high school. Before leaving, I asked the kids to choose a radio station. They selected KBPI, a hard rock station. After a few songs, the disc jockey took a call from a listener, who must've been in his late 20's. The listener remarked that he always liked school. He expressed some fatigue with all of the media coverage on the kids returning to Columbine and the focus on security. The disc jockey piped in, "Those kids at Columbine are justg a bunch of whiney rich kids." I looked in my mirror. Those listening had been wounded. I asked, "Do you want me to change the station?" "Please," a girl answered for all.

I wish these puffed idiots with a mike in their hands would quit imagining themselves as tough guys and start imagining themselves as human beings. I am reminded of how I reacted to my first trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. That night, I wrote: "It is absurd to consider toughness and sensitivity as contradictory aspects of human nature. The man esteeming himself sensitive, discounting toughness, is neither. His effete superficiality is transparent to the true artist. The man projecting toughness to the world, mocking sensitivity, is neither. His false bravado elicits contempt from the true warrior. The artist and the warrior are one."

This idea is supported in both the Eastern and Western tradition. Chogyam Trungpa remarked, "To be a warrior is to learn to be genuine every moment of your life." Christopher Marlowe, in his play Tamburlaine, has the barbarian firmly assert, "Every warrior that is rapt with the love of fame, of valour, and of victory, must needs have beauty beat on his conceits."

There are many voices beating over the airwaves whose conceits comprehend nothing beyond their little pinkies.