Tragedy in Minneapolis. Again.

Minnesota wasn't always this way.

Yesterday, two children, ages 8 and 10, were murdered in a shooting at a Minneapolis Catholic church. Students, teachers and Annunciation Church parishioners were attending a traditional all-school mass to celebrate the beginning a new school year. 18 other children and adults were injured, some severly. 

I've never seen so many broadcasters struggle to contain their emotions as they report on the shooting and I can't even think about it without feeling the tears well up. This morning, I had that hung-over , post nightmare feeling that follows a restless night caused by a traumatic event. I thought about the parents who were awaking to their first full day without a beloved child to send off to school. I reflected on the family of the shooter, who must today be reliving moments when they might have been able to keep their family member from the terrible murderous path that ended in death, serious injury and probable lifelong consequences for victims.

A few hours ago, I listened to a press conference with executives and trauma personnel from Hennepin Health Care, formerly Hennepin County Medical Center (HCMC), who detailed yesterday's horrific events from their perspective. They praised first responders, teachers and students themselves who all did the right thing to save children. A 10-year-old boy described how a friend, "Victor", had covered him with his own body and been injured by gunfire in the shooting. A heroic eighbor ran toward the crime scene , with a view to neutralizing further threats and helping the victims

I was most impressed by the description and implementation of incident plans that included the well coordinated roles of everyone from first responders to emergency room providers, nurses, trauma surgeons, and support staff for victims' families. The first ambulance arrived at HCMC within 10 minutes. Within 25 minutes of the shooting, other ambulances transported non-critical patients Children's Hospital (Minneapolis) and North Memorial Hospital (Robbinsdale).

 I've received messages from friends and acquaintances around the world, concerned about my family and me. Fortunately, immediate family members and friends were not directly involved in this incident. However, I feel heartbroken but frighteningly numb as well, not totally surprised but, concurrently, outraged and convinced that we have the tools to manage and mitigate the reality of gun violence.

Local, state, and federal legislators have the power to act. It's up to us, their constituents, to let them know we deserve, demand and expect action.

Paradise Lost

I visited Minnesota for the first time in late April 1982. Spring was early that year, and I awoke to the sound of birds chirping enthusiastically in the Highland neighborhood of St. Paul. I had to go out for a walk in this idyllic place: the air was fresh and clean, trees were already in full bloom, and I ambled safely a few blocks to Highland Village, crossed Ford Parkway and continued along Cleveland Avenue to the campus of then College of St. Catherine. A few students were on campus, but I was mostly alone with rabbits, squirrels, nesting mallards, and a few geese. I saw my first cardinal ever, singing his heart out with what is now a familiar mating call.

I thought I had arrived in paradise, nestled away in this previously unknown center of the country. A little over a year later I moved here after Bob and I were married, and every day I seemed to discover some new idyllic spot. As the years passed, I fell in love with the land, water and people of Minnesota. I could not imagine a more perfect place on earth, no matter how many lovely places I visited.

I saw the hint of a crack in my rose-colored image one noon hour around 2011 or so. I had gone for a walk in the St. Paul skyways over the noon hour when excessive heat precluded my usual outdoor noon walk. By then, many businesses had already left the downtown area and the skyway was empty.  I felt uneasy when I heard footsteps behind me, stopped when I stopped, and beginning again, getting a little closer with every step. I moved as fast as I could to get to an stairwell leading to the street below, and hoped that the door at the bottom would be unlocked. Fortunately, it was, and the person who seemed to be following me did not emerge behind me. I wondered if the experience had perhaps been the result of an overactive imagination, but from then on I avoided all but the populated skyway near my work. Around the same time, after incidents not far from home, I stopped walking after sunset on the nearby ampus of St. Thomas University.

Fast forward to the COVID year of 2020. George Floyd was murdered in Minneapolis, just across the Mississippi River from home. The world suddently became aware of Minnesota, and not in a good away. Last June, on Flag Day, the assassination and attempted assassination of two Minnesota legislators and their spouses was a stark confirmation that violence and extremism had invaded our beautiful heartland; thereby forever robbing me of my innocent belief in paradise on earth.