Unlearning helplessness...

When I found out I was required to take a communications class at the University of Rhode Island, I was pissed. I am not one for talking in front of large (or small) groups. Luckily, I found out that there was one course that didn't require public speaking, so I immediately signed up. My professor was a young woman who was tall and slender with dark hair. I don't remember her name. I don't remember anything I learned in her class. But I do remember her praising the writing of Wally Lamb. I remember scribbling it in the margin of my notebook because I thought his name sounded like Wooly Lamb, and I thought it was funny. I had it in the back of my mind to check him out, but not until recently did I finally follow through.

Last week, I picked up an audio copy of his latest- The Hour I First Believed- to listen to in my car. The Stephen King book I'd listened to was 7 cds, The Kite Runner- 7 also, The Joy Luck Club- 3, Wally Lamb's is 20. All I could think was, this better be good. And, now on cd 6, I am captivated. It is a novel about a couple who were working at Columbine High School in 1998 when the shooting occurred. As always, I prefer surprises and so read nothing about the storyline before checking it out. I had not followed the case of the shooting when it happened, either. So this is all unraveling before me as though it just took place. Moved by the description of the day's events in my ears on the way to work this morning, I decided to research the incident online in between check-outs. It was interesting to me how organized, and yet completely unorganized, the killers were. I wanted to know more, so I decided tonight to watch the movie Bowling for Columbine. Again, something I'd been wanting to see since it had been released to such high accolades.

Surprisingly, the movie dealt more with the underlying fear in America than the actual events at the school. The most heart-breaking part of the whole movie for me was the outlined statistics concerning gun-related deaths in several countries. Japan, England, Canada, Australia, Germany and others ranged from the 20's to the 200's. America's score was over 11,000. The movie then goes on to question why this is. In the end, it is not guns, video games, or rock music that is thought to be the culprit, but our overall tendency to answer problems with violence. After interviewing several Canadian citizens about their thoughts on the subject, Michael Moore, screenwriter and director/producer, summarizes their answers this way: Canadians have a "we're all in this together" mindset, while Americans are more of the "every man for himself" precept. This was pretty eye-opening for me. I myself am in pretty much constant fear of being impinged upon. I have my door double locked at almost all times of day, a bar in my sliding glass door, an alarm system in almost constant use, and am nearing OCD about being aware of my surroundings. I've always attributed this to my consumption of true crime literature over the years- I know what is out there. But in thinking about it, I realized I was the same way when I was a kid. Why is that?

I started thinking more about fear. And, remembered in Lorenzo's Oil, which I watched last night, how the families who also had children dealing with ALD were afraid to try new treatment options. What were they afraid of? What am I afraid of? And, then it hit me. We are not afraid of robbers, of illness, of death and harm. We are afraid of being helpless. People in America feel helpless to change the high crime rates. People in America feel helpless over not just their homes, but their own bodies. They fear not being able to control the situation, their own lives. I wonder if this is why Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris felt they had to shoot up their community. Maybe they felt helpless about their futures. It is certain that they wanted a feeling of control. But, the most frightening thing of all is that we have no control.

I started thinking about my discussion of time too. As the day of the Columbine shooting was laid out for me, minute by minute, in both the story and the articles I read, I kept thinking, as I'm sure many have, what if that teacher had just waited one second more or one less second to walk down the hall. Then they wouldn't have seen him and shot him. Then he'd be alive today. What if they hadn't decided to turn to that specific table and shoot at that specific direction? The what ifs could go on for an eternity. But it all points to our collective helplessness. We can't control each other; we sometimes can't even control ourselves; we can't control life; and we can't control time. That is what scares us and that is what makes us paranoid. Why do other countries suffer from this less? Well, that is the answer I will continue to search for.


Nature doesn't feel a need for control. It is like a symphony, blooming and perishing under God's conducting baton. In the years since the Columbine incident, psychologists have proposed that at least one of the killers may have had a superiority complex. I wonder if we don't all have one to a certain extent. Otherwise why would we think we could conduct life better than He who created it?