Ominous, dark clouds. A common sight in the Midwest.
I grew up in a leafy green suburb of Chicago in the 1980s and 90s. As a child, I remember participating in tornado drills from time to time in elementary school and junior high. We would form long lines on the ground against inner hallways with ours knees bent, toes touching the wall, our heads down in our laps, our hands grasping the backs of our necks. A position we can all imagine, I’m sure. And one I might be hard-pressed to duplicate today.
These drills were necessary to prepare us for the tornadoes that could potentially ravage our schools. Rumour had it that these were really drills to prepare us for even darker clouds that would come in the shape of mushrooms. I don’t know about that but the ‘tornado’ drills in the school did seem to tail off in the early 90s. Regardless, I quite liked those drills. While I did experience tornado watches and warnings throughout my childhood, a tornado never devastated my town. And there was never a thermonuclear war either. If there had been a nuclear exchange, nothing would have saved that school or the people inside. Nothing would have saved the town, being adjacent to O’Hare’s outermost airfields. An industrial park came between the airfields and the residential neighbourhoods. This was light industry. Mostly warehousing and small-scale manufacturing and distribution. With two major highways running through the town and easy access to commuter rail, it was ideally situated for people that worked in Chicago. It was a great place to grow up. Good schools, safe, nice residents, quiet (as the major flightpaths into O’Hare didn’t go over the town), it was a stereotypical American suburb. The type of place depicted in so many movies and television that people around the world see. Soccer parents, youth football, community leisure centres with classes and a pool, a few bars, a nice library, Walmart, a high school, green space, wide, clean streets, teenagers with red Solo cups drinking from kegs on the weekends, and a violent crime rate many times below the national average. Looking back, it wasn’t in any way exceptional. It was nice, but it wasn’t special. It was like so many other communities throughout the US.
I graduated from high school in 1997 and then graduated from the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign. I worked for a time in Chicago after graduation and then left the US in 2004 to teach English in Indonesia for a year. I visited many amazing countries and cities in Southeast Asia before coming back to Chicagoland in 2005. I left again in 2006 and moved to Prague to teach English again. I travelled throughout Europe, visiting as many places as I could on the weekends and during breaks. I then moved to South Korea in 2008 and lived in a city near Busan for over 5 years teaching English. I live in the UK now and have since 2014. I have been to many places on this planet. I’ve seen a lot.
You know that feeling you get when something negative or onerous happens but the specifics leave your mind when you become busy doing something else? For a few moments before you remember the details, there is a feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach telling you that something is off. It’s like getting a parking ticket on a Friday night but then enjoying your evening and your weekend. You did fun things with your family and your friends. You watched sports, you went to a concert, you went shopping, you went bowling. You did something. And then Monday comes around and you get that feeling. It’s not quite dread or panic. It’s just...something. And then boom!….you remember the ticket and how you must now part ways with $75. Or when there is a task around the house you MUST do but then sit down to do something else. That task leaves your mind but that feeling sits there, letting you know that a task awaits you. It’s only when you consciously focus do the details come streaming back and you remember. But the feeling was there well before. I hate that feeling.
I can’t imagine having that feeling all the time. And yet, and please correct me in the comments if you think I am mistaken, I think a lot people that live in the United States must have that feeling all the time, or most of the time, when they are out in public. I have not lived in the US for any significant amount of time for many years but I follow the news voraciously and joined this site in 2011. I read it all. I see it all. And I can’t help but imagine what it must feel like to go about your life doing everyday things, things with your family and friends, watching sports at a bar, going to concerts, going to school, shopping, going bowling, and having that feeling ever present. Because you are aware, under the surface, that someone could be carrying a deadly firearm ready to use while you go about your everyday life. And maybe it’s not under the surface. Maybe it’s at the forefront of your mind. Which is even more tragic. Who wants to live like that? Every loud noise, every raised voice, every confrontation, every altercation, every disagreement, every bad day, all disagreeable news, everything, has the potential to turn into unspeakable violence. And while I suspect the majority of people probably do not focus on the potential for violence in public spaces, I wonder if that feeling is now the default. Are people that would just be shopping or bowling in the town I grew up in when I was young, now doing those same things but with that feeling? That feeling that something, somewhere, is off. That feeling that you can’t quite put your finger on but know is there. And it is not positive. Most people that live in the United States will never encounter gun violence, yet everyone has the potential to encounter gun violence. In all communities, in all towns, in all settings, at all ages, at all times.
I live in the UK and people do not live with a fear of shootings. Bulletproof backpacks are not a thing, active shooter drills are not a thing, surpassing 39,000 deaths from gun violence every year since 2014 is not even close to a thing. People do not have that feeling. I have lived in 4 other countries that are not the United States and none of those places have high levels of gun violence. They do have violent video games, they do have mental illness, domestic violence, bullying, they do fun things with family and friends, they go shopping, they attend concerts, they watch sports at bars, they go to school, there are altercations, there are disagreements, there are bad days, and yet people in these places, and in most places, do not have that feeling.
After watching Lewiston unfold, I was struck at how commonplace the whole thing seemed. It made me want to write this. It made me think of my town and growing up in a place where tornado are no longer the only drills at the schools I attended, where communities that look just like mine have been forever transformed by tragedies and death and the pulverizing effects of high-calibre gunfire against human flesh and bone. And it made me sad. And it also made me grateful. I am grateful that my children do not have to live with this issue ever present in their minds. And I am grateful for myself, because I do not have to live with that feeling. I wish you didn’t either.
