If the NRA had its way along with its political supporters, anybody who wants a gun would have a gun. No questions. No training. No taking of responsibility for actions resulting from the use of that gun. And if possible, let's blame the victim.
Unwittingly, I became a member of a club no one wants to belong to early on a chilly Friday morning, December 14, 2012. I had never even heard of this club. There is no formal name for this group and we don't have a clubhouse. The members are from across the country, all races, ages and genders. We live in urban areas, the suburbs and rural communities. Yet we all met the memberships' one criterion, a life taken by gun violence. The price of admission to this club is bullets.
As we mark the anniversary of that heart-breaking event of Dec. 14, 2012, her words echo in my mind and prompt me to re-post the meditation I wrote at the time, "Light in the Darkness."
The need for a cohesive, consistent national dialogue on school shooting prevention is, at times, palpable. Now that the school season has begun, this disturbing topic in America's schools is seldom far from discussions on school safety.
Since the middle of May, Nicole and several of the other Sandy Hook family members have called your office multiple times a week requesting a meeting to discuss an important piece of legislation -- legislation that if passed, could prevent a similar tragedy or lessen the loss of life. You ignored them at every turn.
Can you transform the world by gathering people together on a street to cheer, sing and express love? To find out, I interviewed Preston Smiles, founder of The Love Mob, the organization behind "organized acts of love" -- flash mobs -- that support various causes and messages.
The Sandy Hook Promise nonprofit looks to the local community, technology, and innovation to develop a national movement for preventing gun violence. ...
One would think that the slaughter of innocents, especially on the cusp of the holidays, would offer Americans the courage to move forward. However, we ended up with cowardice from a select set of Democratic senators.
Just as our gun culture has changed for the worse, it can also change for the better. If the common-sense majority can just shake off this paralyzing mantle of powerlessness, we can start making the changes we want in our world.
"Run," he cried, and having jogged the survival instincts of his nine classmates, having woken them to the possibilities still there before them, Jesse went down, the first fresh bullet cutting his young life short.
We need to love our children without taking the miracle of their lives for granted. We need be present to their warm, silly joy when it passes by us on the street. We should look them in the eyes with gentle sincerity, letting them know that they matter and that we are so very glad that they are here.
There have been many people writing and remembering about the tragedy of a year ago. The unimaginable actions that happened at that school. There are others like that one. When I reminded myself of my many blessings, I hugged my child that much harder. He didn't understand the extra tight squeeze and I didn't explain.
Flowers die, candles snuff out, food is eaten or goes bad and is thrown in the trash. What is remembered is how people acted. We became a nation of friends who took care of each other.
In their enthusiasm for the promotion of more guns wielded by more people in more places, they have trampled American's rights as enumerated by the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights, freedom of speech, peaceful assembly and petitioning our government for changes in the laws.
Almost 10,000 Americans have been gunned down in this past year in which we've failed miserably to act, and we've hardly noticed. Such profound apathy is democracy's greatest enemy.
The last time I saw Ben Wheeler, he and his big brother Nate were eating chocolate-chip pancakes and being terribly silly. Nine months after the pancake breakfast, I got a strange voicemail: There had been another school shooting, this time in Connecticut.