One of my family’s traditions when we are on week long vacation at the beach is to go around the dinner table and have each of us share our thoughts on a variety of pertinent subjects and questions.
One summer about 10 years ago, I was asked by my family what type of students aggravated me the most—-and without thinking I immediately went onto a five minute diatribe about “Goth kids” and how sullen and morbid they tend to be and how they treat the precious gift of life with such egregious disregard.
But, just as I was concluding my rant by expounding at what happened at Columbine, I noticed that my then 14 year old niece, Nora, who was sitting quietly to my right was weeping.