The Middletown Press (Middletown, CT)
The words we need to find
The shrill sound of sirens surrounded me. Still in the dream, I wiped my head. Blood for sure. I had been in the path of evil. There was nothing I could do. The steely eyes that held the assault rifle seemed to sparkle and laugh. “Yes!,” a guttural voice gurgled, “Gotcha.”
I sat straight up wideeyed and dazed until my cat rubbed her head on my arm and I realized I was sweating, not bleeding, and was at home ... in bed ... and alive. Not surprisingly, the recent spate of mass killings had percolated into my psyche to cause one heck of a nightmare. Had I really just gone to bed after one mass shooting — to wake up to yet another? Or was that a dream, too?
I had hoped when I heard about Newtown, that such a horrific event would certainly be the proverbial straw to break the camel’s back. Heck, if the images of sweet 6 and 7yearolds, mere babies, mercilessly cut down and slathered in their own blood wouldn’t change things, nothing would. Sadly, that was the case. Not much changed — except, perhaps, my viewpoint on things.
See, I was never a fan of venues that entertained large groups. But now, even going to church, the mall, a movie, out for a meal, or spending time at a town carnival gives me the creeps ... makes me feel on edge. These used to be benign places we’d go for fun, taking our kids, our grannies, making memories we’d treasure through the years.
These days, though, I don’t want to go out ... anywhere. Of course, I do, but I don’t dress to impress anymore. I dress down, so as not to attract attention. I try to be gray; blend in, so I don’t stand out. So I won’t be a target. And, worrywart that I am, my antenna is always up, scanning for anything suspicious. That guy over there — is that just his umbrella — or is he carrying an AK47?
No, I’m not paranoid; I’m realistic. The evil is systemic.
It’s everywhere. And unless we’re wearing superduper rosecolored glasses, it’s staring us smack in the face. Now I have friends in Dayton — good friends. So when I heard about the shootings, I freaked. Dear Lord, I prayed, let them be
safe. Then, after being reassured my buddies were OK, I scrolled the Facebook condolence comments and added mine: “There are no words.”
Then it hit me. Wait a minute. Of course, there are words. Plenty of words. It’s just that it hurts me too much to search for them. It makes my head throb looking for the right ones. It makes me think about things I’d rather not think of and takes me to places I‘d rather not go. What will people think of me if I express my disgust, my disillusion, my anger? What good will my words do anyway?
I really don’t know. But I had to go on record that I tried — tried to use words, any words, to affect a response. I have to give words a voice and pray they will lead those “in charge” to some kind of action. I have to believe when I use words to write about, speak out, shout, call for and demand change, when these words push back, express anger, and deliver my frustration, that they will move officials to do something other than accept carnage as the new normal.
By the same token, closer to home in my own life, there are plenty of words I can use to cultivate a kinder, gentler climate reminiscent of the way folks treated each other after 9/11. Looking back, I remember people were more patient, loving, caring then. They maintained a one-for-all-and-all-for-one feeling of being part of a humanity that’s fragile. Folks saw firsthand how you could go to work one morning with a head full of plans for the evening, and just never make it home.
Maybe some of these words will not only assist me — but also others, as well, reminding us of how good it feels to be empathetic and helpful, rather than snapping at each other like deranged turtles. Yes, maybe I’ll use some of these words to uplift rather than tear down my neighbor or use some humor to make them laugh. I could always use them to say “thank you” and “I love you” more, or offer words of comfort when these and other tragedies strike.
Indeed, there are words. And words can move people — just like, as the Bible says, believing can move mountains. We just have to find the right ones, words like “stop the killings,” “enough is enough,” and, “we need action today,” and keep using them until they do.
Allia Zobel Nolan is the author of many books, including “Laugh Out Loud: 40 Women Humorists Celebrate Then and Now … Before We Forget.” She is a resident of Norwalk.
I have to give words a voice and pray they will lead those “in charge” to some kind of action.