Yesterday in the 5 o'clock hour, I was happily braiding Jordan's hair. After a few minutes, we heard what sounded like firecrackers. I normally call them fireworks, but because of the popping sound I heard, I am going with firecrackers. I commented to Jordan that I wondered what sort of holiday I had forgotten about, as I could not imagine why some idiots would be setting off fireworks at the end of August. I yelled to Brian, who was making dinner in the kitchen (yes, I am very lucky my hubby cooks), if he had heard the fireworks.
He came into the room, looked at me seriously, and said those were not fireworks.
And, lo and behold, about 20 or so minutes later, Brian got an update on his super-smart phone that said a teenager had been shot outside of the local McDonald's. The same McDonald's I had just taken Jordan to last week. The one where we eat outside at the Play Place whenever it is nice. The one we go to at least once every other month.
Between the 18-year-old victim and the shooter(s), there were more than a dozen shots fired. The victim was apparently lying on the sidewalk, bleeding, with a gun in his hand. He died a few hours later.
Yes, I ask this question a lot. I don't really expect anyone to answer it for me. But I am going to keep asking it.
I am going to keep wondering why too many people insist on throwing their lives away before they are really even started.
I am going to keep questioning why too many people think that violence is a solution to anything.
I wanted to write a light post today, celebrating Jordan's first day of third grade. But instead, I am, once again, feeling sad about the state of the world and where I live. It may be worth noting that as I drove past the McDonald's this morning, it was business as usual, crowded as ever.