Highland Park Reminds Us That Guns Kill People and Destroy Our Liberty

I did not want to be the first person to write about the outrage in Highland Park or even one of the first ten or the first hundred.

I was not there on that horrible July 4th morning. Nor was anyone from my family, nor any neighbors. And I don’t know any of the deceased nor any of those left orphaned or widowed or just bereft. I wanted those people to have a chance to tell their stories first.

But I have walked those streets in downtown Highland Park. I’ve had an apple pancake at Walker Brothers, bought canasta supplies at Ross, selected camp stuff for the kids at Gearhead when it was still Uncle Dan’s. This deadly act felt so personal.

My life has been touched by death many times. Natural causes, suicides, and even a few murders. But I can’t think of anything so senseless, so selfish, or so shameful as this tragedy. The gut-punch won’t go away.

We lament today but I fear that except for a handful of people whose lives have been irretrievably altered, nothing will change.

High-powered rifles will continue to be a fact of life and death. Handguns will continue to kill police, to kill offenders, to kill bystanders. And don’t tell me they are needed for self-defense. I’m not buying it, and these guys aren’t either.

I am not sure how and why our country reached this state of firearm saturation. I am not sure what we can do about it. The new Bipartisan Safer Communities Act is a first step, most significant in showing that congressional sanity is a possibility.

Freedom to yield a weapon needs to stop when it touches my freedom or your freedom or anyone’s freedom to live a long, loving, and legal life. That’s what Independence Day now means to me.

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To My Grandchildren After The Texas School Shooting.

A Chicago school shooting. Photo courtesy Chicago Tribune.

A Message To My Four Grandchildren

When I was in elementary school we had fire drills. Then when I was in high school I was part of the “Safety Unit,” manning the stairwells to ensure students only used the correct pathways to a safe exit during similar drills. Most students treated those drills as a joke, enjoying a break from classes, and getting outside on a nice spring day.

I never inquired, but I suppose things were the same for our kids, your parents, who were public school students in the late 80s and throughout the 90s, with those same drills that no one took seriously.

Then came April 20, 1999, and with Columbine, the beginning of the school shooter era.

So the drills that you, my four grandchildren will get used to are active shooter drills. And I fear you need to take them seriously.

Of all the countries in the world, only this one can’t figure out how to stop mass shootings — be they in the workplace, a shopping mall, or an elementary school.

The country you live in is overloaded with firearms. The adults are numb to the daily murder numbers until they impinge on the parts of the city they care about.

We can reel off the locations of mass shootings, but as a government, as a people, we have failed your generation.

I hope someday, someday soon, we adults will start doing the smart things, and you kids can go to school, to houses of worship, and to fun places too, and not have to worry about whether you will make it to tomorrow.

You deserve a safe, happy future.

With Love,

Your Baba

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Assault Weapons Jar My Ride

“Lady Bird wanted the highways clear of billboards and junkyards, and filled with green landscaping and wildflowers.”

As I accelerate through my twice-daily commute along Interstate 294, I get a sense that Mrs. LBJ wasn’t particularly successful in her drive to beautify America. The billboards she fought against are the mile markers of my journey. Most times the giant messages pass into my subconsciousness where I keep my mental records.

I know where to expect a Blue Cross/Blue Shield “through it all.” I have counted as Brian Uhrlacher’s hair restoration billboard postings outnumber the total tackles in his Bear’s career. A big red arrow points the way to mortgage refinancing savings, while Wintrust is trying really hard to out-hometown the other guys. And the ~~strip~~ gentlemen’s clubs advertise what they have always advertised.

As a sign of the times I know who is pushing rapid COVID-19 testing, and who wants me to learn all about marijuana, both medicinal and recreational. Preferably not indulged in while zooming past construction zones and road shoulder stalls.

This month I have noticed a new billboard, a new advertisement asking for an investment of my time and thought as I thunder past. It must be about 650 sq. ft. in size, rising just to the right of the southbound lanes. And it features a silhouette image of a firearm. I am not an expert, but whizzing past, it sure looks like an assault rifle.

I assume the billboard is advertising a gun store, or a shooting range, or some other gun-related enterprise. I don’t care what it is for. It disturbs me and I despise it. I don’t get upset seeing reminders of the health plan I no longer belong to, the hair I can’t grow, or the pot and women that I don’t indulge in–but seeing weapons of mass destruction on my very favorite tollway? It brings tears to my eyes.

In the indeterminate future I will retire. I will not drive past this billboard. Better yet, I can wish the billboard, and the death it portrays, will go away. If only my wishes would come true.

Lady Bird Johnson could have told you rifles don’t beautify highways. She could also have told you how one changed her life.

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