My morning starts when I post El Morno on Facebook and various friends bring their cuppa and drop by to chat before they start their day. Usually the conversation is light and breezy. However, on Friday, we were all greeted with the news of the shooting in Aurora, Colorado. The idea that someone would walk into a movie theater of complete strangers and open fire on the audience was beyond the beyond and left us without words.
My evening came to screeching halt when Cole called me from the beach to say that he had been running after a ball when he slipped and fell off the beach ledge into the rocky portion of the lake. He was wet, bruised and battered; his right ankle was swollen and throbbing. The beach is about 30 minutes from home, and none of his friends could drive a manual transmission and if I drove down to pick him up we would have two cars at one location with only one able-bodied driver. To make matters worse, Cole had done a swan dive into the lake with his phone in his pocket, so he was calling me from the various numbers of people who loaned him their phones. All the different numbers made coordinating a plan very frustrating, as the kids would loan Cole their phone and then not answer the phone when I called Cole back. At one point, I was texting three different numbers and no one was texting back. I felt like I was living a logistical nightmare.
My eventual solution was a phone call to my brother-in-law (who can drive a manual transmission) and sister-in-law, who live much closer to the lake than I do, and ask them if they could pick up Cole for me. They were home, and without missing a beat were on their way to pick up Cole. Of course, during all the drama I was also posting on Facebook, and friend after friend offered help and support.
Cole arrived home wet, bruised and swollen, but all in one piece—more or less. While we iced his ankle, he told me about all the people who had immediately come over to help him when he fell. They helped him off the rocks, offered him towels and ice for his ankle, their phones to call home, and one friendly stranger even offered to drive him all the way to our house. His friends stuck by his side during the whole ordeal.
Friday morning, my optimistic view of people and the world we live in—which has always been one of my hallmark characteristics—was shaken to the bone. People were being killed in movie theaters, for God’s sake. In America.
Friday evening, however, I was shown a much different world—a world filled with helpful, generous and kind people.
There are nearly 314 million souls in this country—the vast majority of them wonderful people doing the right thing every day. Let’s not let the massacre in Aurora, Colorado drain away our faith in one another; instead, let’s remember all those that stepped forward to help and console during and after the shooting. Let’s remember the victims and their loved ones, and let’s forget the name of the shooter.