Memory and Mourning
By ice rivers
Fifty years ago, I had the opportunity to spend a day within Attica Prison. I got clearance to be part of a counseling group that worked with men serving life sentences. I represented a halfway house that offered a conditional out for the most "corrected " of the men and counsel for the most entrenched. It was kinda like an AA meeting with armed guards inside the room.
Several of the lifers were carrying Bibles into the meeting. All of them were trying to impress me with how much they had changed since being imprisoned. The vibe was not good. I got the feeling that everybody was bullshitting me about their coming to Jesus.
One of the prisoners told a story about what an inconceivable monster he had been before he found Jesus. He told of a practice that he had before he got arrested. He said that he liked to go to the woods overlooking Little League baseball games. He took his rifle with him. From the woods he would randomly aim his rifle at one of the players. He would start to squeeze the trigger at which point he knew that an innocent life was at his mercy. When he decided not to fire, he felt that he had saved the life of a child and was a hero. He admitted that when his finger was on the trigger, he didn't know if he was going to fire and if he started firing he didn't know if he would stop.
Now, thanks to Jesus, he would never go in the woods again if he ever got out.
That was enough for me. I found such pyschopathy unimaginable
Someone told me that I had done a good job that day and I could come back whenever I wanted.
I didn't want. I was young and I was horrified at the image of slaughtered innocence.
All this was before Columbine.
A few weeks ago, shots were fired on a Little League team during a game. Thank God, nobody was injured.
A week ago, we had a "replacement theory" slaughter at a grocery store in Buffalo.
Yesterday, 18 children and a teacher murdered in Texas.
Whatever this is, it's been brewing for a long time.
How do ya like us now, world?
The mighty Divided States of America mourning and waiting for the next outrage even as we weep over the current one.
When will it end?
How will it end?
When are we gonna get these guns outta the hands of these killers?
The unimaginable has become commonplace.