Sun Sentinel Palm Beach Edition
Parkland father reflects on one ‘never again’ moment after another
Devastated. Enraged. Bitter. Heartbroken. Melancholy.
These are some of the feelings that race through my mind after a CNN notification pops up on my phone alerting me to the Tree of Life synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh, where 11 people, all Jews, died.
The Parkland shooting hit us hard, but this shooting goes to the core of my being. Yes, I am Jewish. I already live with the reality that my children, two of whom currently attend Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, are not safe at school. Now, after the deadliest attack on Jews in American history, my family is no longer safe in our house of worship.
The Tree of Life shooting was not only an affront to humanity, it challenges all that I have learned about being a Jew. Still dealing with the fear that one of our kids will not return home from school one day, I think of my fourth child, Justin, as he begins preparing to become a Bar Mitzvah. When he goes to our synagogue to prepare for this milestone in a Jewish boy’s life, I wonder whether he will come home alive or suffer the same fate as those in Pittsburgh, people whose only “crime” was to practice their religion on the Sabbath.
Nov. 14 will be the nine-month anniversary of the Parkland shooting. Every day since, I have thought of the events that unfolded that day, including the loss of one of my son Noah’s dearest friends, Alex Schachter. Every once in awhile, life seems regular, but such moments are fleeting. Out of nowhere, I well up inside, overcome by the loss, the devastation, the atrocities and the thought of our defenseless kids being shot down, one by one. Seventeen of them never to return home that afternoon to their families, who had no idea what hit them.
There have been other shootings since Feb. 14, but the Pittsburgh one hits me deep inside. It’s as if I am in Squirrel Hill with them, as if their pain is my pain. I know how they feel – not because I am trying to be comforting to another human being – but because I truly know, instantly, how they feel. I have been where they are. And I know what the next nine months will be like for them.
It used to be easy to distinguish the United States from other countries. The land of opportunity. Capitalism. Freedom of religion. Freedom to pursue life, liberty and happiness. I don’t know where we are anymore. Our country has lost its identity and along the way, our safety and security.
The right to bear arms is more sacrosanct in some circles than the safety of our children and teachers in schools. It is more sacred than the sanctuaries where people gather to pray, laugh and be with others who share their religious beliefs.
I have no confidence in our political leaders. They were elected to solve these problems, but many turn the other cheek in pursuit of their own — or their political party’s — agenda.
And all President Trump has to say is that this could have been avoided if the synagogue had its own security. Isn’t the government supposed to assure our safety and security? The answer is no, according to Mr. Trump.
I guess we all must take responsibility for our own security. That point was made clear in the 60 Minutes piece that aired Sunday, Nov. 4, describing the devastating effects of an AR-15 as compared to a handgun. It reported that more and more Americans are preparing for mass shootings by carrying personal bleeding kits, which consist of tourniquets, QuikClot, gloves, elastic and Modular bandages, gauze, sponges, scissors and an instructional guide. It breaks your heart to think it has come to this.
I was in line recently at Starbucks with my son, Justin, who is in 7th grade, to order breakfast – our usual ritual on Tuesday mornings. Suddenly I thought to myself: What if loud shots ring out? What if a shooter comes inside Starbucks and starts shooting randomly? What would I do? I look around and begin developing a strategy.
Here is what I came up with: I’ll grab my son, push him behind the counter and force him to the ground. Then, I’ll lie on top of him so that any rounds fired hit me, not his little, innocent 12-year-old body. Yeah. That’s what I’ll do. Whew! I felt better. Not.
Then it hit me – if this is what is going through my mind at Starbucks, where can we go and feel safe anymore? Schools are out. Synagogues? Nope. Outdoor concerts? Sorry. Nightclubs – try again. Movie theaters? No. How about a yoga studio? That one was OK until last week, when a shooter killed two people in a Tallahassee yoga studio. You can cross bars off the list with the Borderline Bar & Grill shooting in Thousand Oaks, California, only days ago. The list goes on. It is enough to bring anyone down.
It has been nearly impossible to move on with life, especially when your son has lost one of his best friends and many of your daughter’s drama class friends remain in the news as advocates for change.
When the Parkland shooting happened on Feb. 14, a movement was created — #NEVERAGAIN. A brilliant slogan, I thought, until my daughter and I were reminded of another Never Again movement – this one from the last century.
We were in Budapest during the Passover break of Jocelyn’s semester abroad, in a program known as High School in Israel. Standing in the courtyard of the Great Synagogue, wearing our Douglas Strong and Parkland Strong t-shirts, we learned that more than 2,200 Jews had been found dead in the city’s Jewish Ghetto when the Soviet Army arrived near the end of the war. All were buried in one massive gravesite, which is now the courtyard of this beautiful structure.
Standing there, I saw a tablet in the wall that read “NEVER AGAIN.” I real-
ized the Holocaust was the Never Again movement of our grandparents and parents’ generation, 9⁄11 was the Never Again movement of my generation, and mass shootings is the Never Again movement of our children’s generation. It made me enormously sad to realize tragedies have filled the lives of the living for all of time. Countless “Never Again” moments must fill our history books.
My daughter wrote these words after spending a week in Poland and visiting concentration camps where so many atrocities took place:
“I have no words for what I feel. I cannot fathom how people could be so blind to the heinous tragedies that took place here. People are walking their dogs and moms are pushing their children in strollers along the sidewalks like it’s a park. I stare. I can’t take my eyes off this pit. I try imagining the 10,000-plus human bodies burning underneath the ground as they laid here on top of their friends and family members, awaiting their death. I tear my eyes away from the pit to look around and glance into the surrounding city. I see people going about their normal day simply running errands or driving to their next destination. I know not a single one of them has a second thought about the horrors that happened right here.”
I prayed deeply for no more “Never Again” movements. But in the months since, I began to realize that it was an exercise in futility and questioned why I even prayed for that.
Events since then (the Savannah State University shooting, the Santa Fe school shooting, the Tree of Life shooting, and the Thousand Oaks Bar shooting, to name a few) make it clear that evildoers have been around since the beginning of time. And I now conclude that they will likely be around until the end of time.
It’s a sobering thought. With all of the young and innocent lives lost in these tragedies, the best I can do is conclude these atrocities will always be with us?
I think of Ayub Ali, the Parkland father who was shot and killed in his North Lauderdale convenience store, whose two out of four children are students at MSD. It wasn’t enough that his family was dealing with the effects of the shooting as survivors. He also had to lose his life to a gunman who left with $500, only to return moments later to kill him.
So what are we to make of all of this? Something doesn’t sit right with the notion that there are evil people who do bad things to others and that’s that. There must be more to it.
Judaism teaches us to practice Tikkun Olam – acts of kindness designed to repair the world. But how can we repair the world when we as a people are hated and shot at in our houses of worship? Synagogues are supposed to be our safe place. Sadly, we have come to expect this type of violence in Israel – but not here in the United States.
I believe I found the answer when I heard Dr. Edith Eva Eger speak in San Diego this summer. Dr. Eger is 90 and a Holocaust survivor. She has written a book called The Choice and her message is very simple. When nothing comes from without, how can you find the power from within?
Every day when we wake up, we all have a choice. We can decide what kind of day to have and nobody can change that. “We have the capacity to hate, and we have the capacity to love. Which one we reach for,” she writes, “is up to us.”
Her website (https://dreditheger.com) reads as follows: “though I could have remained a permanent victim – scarred by what was beyond my control – I made the choice to heal. Early on, I realized that true freedom can only be found by forgiving, letting go, and moving on. So I turned my life around and vigorously pursued a career in psychology. Combining my formal education and my own life challenges, I have helped countless others lead full lives by moving beyond their problems – no matter how insurmountable they believed them to be.”
These words from a person who at the youngest of ages experienced atrocities none of us should ever know. The Holocaust is one of the most horrific events in human history, and yet from the ashes of that painful period, came so many people, including Dr. Eger, who went on to lead vibrant, successful lives. People who created so many beautiful things, not the least of which is the State of Israel itself.
The Parkland community has made its choice. We have seen the March for Our Lives movement spread around the world. And parents whose children died that day have devoted their lives to creating meaningful change in school safety and gun control reform.
The list of good that has come from the Parkland Shooting goes on and on. It has taught me and the rest of the world the awesomeness of the power of those who choose good over evil — and love over hate — even after the unimaginable massacre that blazed its trail through this once quiet bedroom community of 32,000 people. I have no doubt the Squirrel Hill, Pennsylvania community will do the same. So will Thousand Oaks, California.
And so it is true after Parkland, Pittsburgh, Thousand Oaks or any other tragedy. We must ask ourselves not why this tragedy happened to us, but now that it has happened, how are we going to respond? What are we going to do about it?
I realize the answer was right in front of me the whole time. Tikkun Olam. We must repair the world. As Chris Cuomo says at the beginning of his nightly show on CNN, “Let’s get to it.”
Howard S. Krooks is an elder law and special needs planning attorney with Elder Law Associates PA in Boca Raton. He lives with his family in Parkland. He has written two previous articles about the Stoneman Douglas shooting, one about the texts he shared with his son as it was happening, and a month later, a father’s plea for help.