Disconnected? When ‘we’ becomes ‘me’

I guess it’s true that some people are willing to carry the blood-stained banner for a cause. I am one of them.

I guess it’s true that some people are willing to carry the blood-stained banner for a cause, but as one of my readers told me this week, “You can’t bleed for everyone.”

For my last several columns, I have stepped outside what is considered my conservative view about some aspects of life to explore possible causes between guns and violence and the role society and its demands on people may play in its tragic consequences.

My columns not only come from my personal observations and experiences and the lessons they have taught me but, by extension, they also have formed my opinions.

As such, I find it impossible to rail against people for irresponsible behavior and enveloping themselves in social ills without acknowledging the challenges they face or their odds on the roulette wheel of survival.

My reader, who lives in the Valley and contacts me frequently, shared with me his experience over the years of trying to right social wrongs.

He admitted he burned out trying to figure out the whys, coming to the conclusion that not enough people cared to make a difference.

“People agree,” he said, “but either don’t care enough to help institute change, or the people that do care burn out because, despite their best efforts, nothing changes.”

That is a running thread of thought from many readers of my columns, who believe, among other things, that it all comes down to people not caring about their fellow man.

There’s still plenty of good will, as evidenced by the overall generosity of people who ensure children are fed and families have shelter, among a host of other charitable measures.

What has been lost or is disconnected is the thread that connects and binds us together and makes us care for and about each other.

That is surprising considering our history teaches us that America and Americans have stood the test of time because, when our values and way of life are under assault, we stand united and true blue to one another.

Those values are under assault now.

Demethra Telford is the latest parent who in the days following the shooting death of her child received the sympathetic embrace of the public.

But she has seen those sympathetic eyes turn to cold shoulders — or maybe indifference is a better word — as people go back to their lives, leaving her to join other mothers and fathers still looking for answers for their murdered children.

“As time goes on, I’m standing by myself,” she said. “I still have some people, just a very few, still standing in my corner.”

But why are Telford and the other parents all alone? Why doesn’t the death of their innocent children or their pain matter beyond a rush of shocked gasps?

Is it because they’re black kids, many from single mothers, and the feeling is that their lives don’t matter? Is it because they live in low-income areas where there is concrete and not green lawns?

It’s an ugly message but one that seems to have settled in nationwide among people.

According to Dr. George Drinka, in an article he penned for Psychology Today, “We are living in changing times, in an era of a poorly studied morality shift.”

He writes in part, “what has not remained as firmly rooted in time is the culture itself, the communities in which these kids live. Societal trends have drifted away from an emphasis on community and the common good and moved toward the need to take care of self.”

And that is why my reader is so concerned about me burning out.

“I just know you’re doing a lot of good with your columns,” he said. “But don’t do it to your personal detriment. Remember, you can’t bleed for everyone.”

He’s right; I can’t bleed for everyone. But I’ve still got a lot of blood and I won’t join the ranks of people who are galvanized with inertia.

They may be locked and loaded about what is going on but they have put the safety on life: I have not.

I look at Telford’s griefstricken face and it tears me up that she is alone and pretty much helpless; somebody has got to bleed for her, her son Tyriek Keyes and these other dead children.

One thing is for sure — the saints won’t come marching in anytime soon, leaving me wondering: Will nobody stand for these children?

It bothers me that Tyriek was shot dead at age 14 and that he will lay in that ground along with so many other murdered children, remembered briefly and then quickly forgotten. Whose child is next? Police may very well find Tyriek’s killer. And with a little help from the black community, they can find him or her a lot faster. But then again, maybe not. My readers may have hit it on the nose. We simply aren’t a society that gives a damn anymore.

And that’s what happens when we become disconnected from one another — and “we” becomes “me.”

There’s still plenty of good will, as evidenced by the overall generosity of people who ensure children are fed and families have shelter, among a host of other charitable measures.