• Theodore Decker: Shootings the new normal
We know these places. All of them. Intimately.
If this unending march through carnage has taught us anything — admittedly our learned lessons on the topic are shamefully few and far
between — it has driven home the knowledge that if our fellow citizens decide to inflict violence upon us, they will come to us wherever we are.
And yes, it is almost always a fellow citizen. It also is more a matter of when than if.
They find us during worship in our churches, synagogues and mosques. They find our children in their classrooms and us at work, whether at a city municipal building in Virginia Beach or anewsroom in Maryland’s capital city.
They find us at play, in movie theaters and at outdoor concerts and at the weekend festivals, where our likelihood of attending is carefully weighed against the length of our weekend lists.
These days, these most mundane of decisions about daily life couldconceal unseen weight.
The people of Dayton feel that now, how the line between life and death might rest upon when you decide to call it a night.
Maybe you’ve never been to the Oregon District, where a gunman took nine lives early Sunday before police took his. But you know it. This is how the district is described in Dayton’s 2019 visitors guide:
“Dayton’s oldest neighborhood, dating back to the 19th century, is home to a vivacious area of arts, nightlife, clubs, culture and cuisine with eclectic shops, boutiques and art galleries.”
Another description: “The Oregon District ... offers the very best of urban living. The beautiful historic homes are located within walking distance to some of Dayton’s best shopping, restaurants, bars and galleries. The charming streets feature magnificent architecture, lovely gardens ...”
Here in Columbus, that sounds like the Short North or German Village. In Cincinnati, they might think of Over-the-rhine. They’re the places we choose for first dates andthat we like to show off when the in-laws are in town.
Hours before the Dayton shooting, another man consumed by hate and delusion underscored the awful banality of the violence that makes its way into our daily lives. This man didn’t choose a showcase neighborhood of El Paso, Texas. Instead, he left 20 dead in the universal fluorescence of a Walmart, where shoppers abandoned carts full of paper towels and dog food and back-to-school supplies and ran for their lives.
And then there was the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Did you forget about that one? It happened forever ago — on July 28, one week before the slayings in Dayton.
Three were shot dead at the California festival, including two children. Another 12 were wounded.
In Ohio, Gov. Mike Dewine toured the Oregon District on Sunday morning, praising first responders but refusing to dive too deeply into policy changes about how Ohio should respond to avoid repeats.
“This is not the time for that,” he said.
Later, he did respond to questions about the “red-flag” legislation that he has touted, saying that he would be amenable to policy changes as long as they are constitutional, “respect the Second Amendment” and “move the ball, in other words, improve the situation.”
In El Paso, Priscilla Zavala and her husband were with their four children at the Cielo Vista Mall’s Build-abear store when the gunfire erupted at the nearby Walmart. Store employees closed the front gate, silenced the in-store music and herded customers into a back room. They passed out teddy bears to comfort the children.
“It’s sad that my babies are growing up in this world,” Zavala later told the Los Angeles Times. “I hate it. I hate living like this.”
On this point, the company she keeps is vast. Yet here we are.