Sending Some Love to Aurora, Colorado

Last Friday morning, something horrible happened. It was June 20th, 2012. The Dark Knight Rises (one of the summer's most anticipated films) was playing in midnight screenings in movie theaters across the country. At one of these theaters, a 24-year-old man (whom I won't dignify by naming) decided to duck out the emergency exit of the theater he was sitting in, shortly after the film began. He propped open the door, returned to his car, and grabbed riot gear and an arsenal of weapons. He then brought those weapons back into the theater with him (via the emergency exit), released some tear gas into the air, and began shooting people. Lots of people.

I can only imagine (though I don't much like to) the chaos, terror, and violence that ensued. These were people who had paid to see a movie they were very excited about. They had expected a fun, exciting, safe evening. Instead, they were shot by a very disturbed individual, and many will never return home again. At this writing, 12 people were killed, and 38 more injured, many of them critically. The shooter was apprehended (surprisingly; often the gunman tries to end his life after such attacks), and is awaiting justice. In the meantime, the community is left heartbroken, confused, and afraid.

The worst part (for me, at least)? This community was Aurora, Colorado...my hometown. The city where I just vacationed a couple of weeks ago. This movie theater (a Century 16) was literally down the street from my high school (Gateway High School), where the shooting victims were taken for treatment. My parents' house (where we played with the kids in the backyard and shared many good times) is barely two miles from this movie theater. The theater shares a parking lot with the Aurora Mall, a place where I spent many hours as a youth hanging out with friends, eating Orange Juliuses, and doing my Christmas shopping. And I've visited this very movie theater several times with friends and family, during my frequent visits back to my home state.

Photo: Karl Gehring, The Denver Post.

Having such a terrifying tragedy occur so close to my childhood home (in a place that has given me many happy memories), has shaken me deeply, and I've spent much of this weekend in a roller-coaster ride of emotion. I've felt fear...fear that someone I knew was at that theater (or someone that my parents knew; they spent much of the morning frantically trying to contact their friends, many of whom they knew were going to see the movie that night). I also felt a new fear of stepping inside a movie theater; Nathan and I had bought tickets to see The Dark Knight Rises the very next night. Suddenly, sitting in a dark, crowded, and vulnerable place didn't feel safe or fun. We spent much of the movie tense and jumpy, remembering what had happened the night before and feeling slightly guilty for enjoying a show when people doing the same activity had been murdered the night before.

I also feel angry...angry at this disgusting crime and the twisted, gruesome mind that came up with it. It angers me that so many families will be consumed with sorrow, debt, loneliness, and despair for who knows how long, when the killer will probably sit comfortably in jail for the rest of his life as our laborious legal system grinds its gears and as Colorado taxpayers provide him with clothing, shelter, and television. It angers me that someone could be so selfish as to rob so many people of so many things, just by one crazy act. It angers me that so many people can get weapons that can exact such deadly force, and that guns and violence are so taken for granted in our society that such massacres, while awful, seem to have a certain grim inevitability to them.

It also makes me sad. Sad for a town I know and love dearly. Sad that so many people should be grieving so hard for something so pointless and arbitrary. Sad that the town will never quite be the same again. Sad that so many innocent people have suffered. The youngest casualty of the night was only six years old...the same age as my daughter Lorelai is now. I will (God willing) get to see my daughter grow, learn, and reach her full potential. The mother of that sweet six-year-old girl will never get to know her daughter that way, and that breaks my heart in a way I never knew was possible before I became a parent.

Sadly, this is not the first shooting tragedy to take place in Colorado. In 1993 (when I was a junior in high school), a disgruntled ex-employee of a nearby Chuck E Cheese came back to the restaurant late one December night with a gun, shooting five people and killing four. Three of the victims were teenagers; one of them was a girl in Nathan's home ward. The sole survivor was the older brother of a boy in my grade at school. One of my friends had been scheduled to work that night; she was emotionally crushed and took months to recover.

Just a few years later, in 1999, two disturbed high-school students burst into their high school (named Columbine, after the Colorado state flower), carrying several guns, and started shooting students and teachers. Ultimately, 13 people were killed, the two gunmen killed themselves, and the community was horror-struck. I was on my mission at the time in Moscow, Russia; however, the news story was big enough that it reached across oceans. I was told of the massacre at Columbine by an investigator, who used it as an example of the wickedness so prevalent and fundamental in the world. Shaken as I was by the news, I found it hard to disagree with her. And now this weekend, Colorado (and Aurora in particular) has another tragedy to add to their already impressive, nationally renowned list.

Photo: The Denver Post, Joe Amon, AP. That building off to the rear-left is the public library. I played in many piano recitals there, and checked out lots of books as well. This is all way too close to home for me.

There have been times this weekend that I wanted to get on the phone with my mom and dad, and encourage them to (finally) sell their house--my childhood home--and move somewhere "safer." Honestly, though, I'm not sure where exactly that would be. I don't know what it is about Colorado that has made it the location of so many evil, vicious acts. I don't know why so many people have died in these tragic shootings so close to my home. Aurora has its problems, to be sure, but it is not a filthy, corrupt hotbed of crime. I have never felt in personal danger at any time there, whether during my growing up, or on subsequent visits. I know for a fact that many beautiful, happy families have been raised in Aurora, and many still live there. I know it is a community full of supportive, brave people. I hear the stories of how men in the theater that night shielded their girlfriends, children, or wives from the hail of bullets, and how several of them died because of their courage. I also hear of the policemen who sprang to action, calming the panicked crowd, apprehending the shooter, and doing everything in their power to defuse the situation.

When I hear those things, I am reminded of the Aurora I once knew well, and that I'd like to think still exists. I look at the picture above, and see the masses of people united in grief and support, and think, "this is my Aurora." I know things will never be the same. In all likelihood, the movie theater will close, just as that Chuck E Cheese ultimately closed all those years ago. The community will be gripped in rage and accusations will be made. Through it all, I hope people will not lose their civility and their courage.

Most of all, I hope people won't give up on Aurora. I had a great time visiting there, just a few weeks ago. I look forward to visiting it again. I love the restaurants, the people, the parks, and the sights. I love my family and friends all over Colorado. I still hope to return to Colorado and live there again someday (probably not any time soon, but I can always dream!). I hope this tragedy will help people draw nearer to each other, watch out for each other, and work together for peace and positive change.

Sorry for the morbid subject matter; I'll soon be back to posting my vacation photos. I hope by showing you some of my photos, you will realize that Aurora is a good place, filled with good people. I am still hurting inside by the news (as are many of my family and friends), but I want them to know (especially my Aurora family) that I love you all. I miss you. I am praying for you all. I hope things get better soon. I hope the victims' families find peace and support. I love you, Aurora (for whom my youngest daughter is named). I can't wait to see you again.