It was my grocery store. When I walked in the front door, I knew which way to turn toward the produce department––I knew which aisles to take for the most direct route to the back of the store for eggs.
The mass shooting, this time in Boulder, Colorado on Monday, March 22 that claimed the lives of 10, including a police officer, was really no different than any other in this country. I’ve written columns about the need for gun control. I won’t do that today. I’ve learned my lesson about broaching the subject head-on. It doesn’t matter that the gun was the much-discussed AR-15 type long gun, perhaps a Ruger brand. The irony is that just last week, a Boulder judge denied the city from overriding state law by carving out an exception with an ordinance to ban AR type guns and high capacity clips, similar to the 1994 Clinton national ban on the weapons that sent mass shootings pummeling 37% during its ten-year enactment. The issue of whether cities can override state gun laws is still under advisement and will likely be heard by the Colorado Supreme Court in the coming months. None of that matters to the 10 families and their friends today. It seems mass killings will only be wished and prayed away. There should be congressional action. There are bills pending which can be debated and enacted, but I fear legislative paralysis.
What does matter, beyond the loss of life, is what was done to Boulder. Boulder is a community of 106,000 people nestled at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. It has always been a quirky town. Fifty years ago, Boulder capped its growth when the city was populated by about 90,000 and has done a pretty good job of controlling growth ever since. Driving northwest from Denver one arrives on a mesa and suddenly looks down on the entire town and the vista of majestic Rockies beyond. That sight is stunning. I saw it for the first time in 1978 and still marvel.
The University of Colorado stands out with its red-tile-roofed, sandstone buildings, but the town is more than just the university. Boulder is small-town. But, within are big minds and big technology. Ball Aerospace has a large campus and NCAR (National Center for Atmospheric Research) has hosted dignitaries and had everyone from astronauts to deep-sea researchers study there. NCAR’s lab sits high in the foothills of the Front Range that grows out of Boulder’s western edge. The lab is at the end of Table Mesa Drive and looks down on the shopping center that is home to the King Soopers grocery store that is at the center of attention today.
Boulder is a throw-back to another time. One of the last active Chautauqua performing arts theatres is in the town and has been since 1898. There is a pedestrian shopping mall that has eschewed big-box retailers in favor of quaint local businesses––a local bookstore, a first-rate kitchen emporium, a retro toy store, art cooperatives for artisans to sell, gift shops, and of course restaurants. The first Old Chicago restaurant was on the Pearl Street Mall before it became a chain. The biggest name on the mall is a Haagen-Dazs ice cream store. Outdoor patio and rooftop dining were staples in Boulder before the pandemic sent us all outside to eat. The last remnants of the hippie culture are on display every day. Street musicians and acrobats performing abound.
Boulder has always been a peace-loving town. It gets national attention once in a while when the university students act badly and burn a couch in the streets, but Officer Eric Talley is only the sixth Boulder officer killed in action in the town’s history and the first since 1994. Boulder received unwanted national attention in 1998 when six-year-old, beauty pageant participant JonBenet Ramsey was strangled and murdered in her home on Christmas Eve. That mystery remains unsolved. Strangers on the street still exchange the two-finger, vee peace sign. A killing spree in Boulder is the equivalent of killing John Lennon––Why?
I still live within a few miles of Boulder. Mrs. Making-Sentences and I took a 15-year sabbatical from Boulder to live in Mesquite, but moved back a few years ago. As I mourn the loss of the victims, I also mourn the loss of what Boulder, Colorado stands for.
Personally, I feel the pervasive scope of mass killings getting closer and closer. I lived in Colorado when the Columbine massacre occurred in 1999. That was close because it was about 25 miles away and at a school and I was a teacher. Newtown was close because the victims were elementary school kids, just like the kids I taught. In the Columbine, Newtown, and Parkland killings, teachers lost their lives––getting closer to me. Now mass murder has arrived in the town I cherish. Mass murder has invaded a neighborhood where I once lived and a store where I once shopped. While the 10 victims’ names were being released, we sat listening, quaking that we might know one or two. We escaped knowing any of the dead. It is small comfort. There are far too many of us who can share tragically similar stories to what I share here. And, that’s just how close to home mass murder is getting.
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