Tragedy in the City

What a sad weekend.  Words stick in my hands, unable to be written.  I wish this was more elegant.

If you want elegance, please enjoy some flowers from my garden in 2019.  Happier times!

The rest of this post is a bit grim, so please feel free to admire the flowers on your way out.  But I hope you'll stay.

As my United States readers know, there was a mass shooting in Buffalo, New York, at a supermarket.  13 people shot, 10 dead, the alleged shooter (whose name I will not use) in police custody.  Buffalo is the second largest city in New York State after New York City.  It is also the home town of our current Governor.

The alleged shooter is an 18 year old man from Conklin, New York, which is about 15 miles from where I live near Binghamton, New York. Conklin is a small community of about 5,000 people.

Our community here in the Binghamton area knows about mass shootings.  We have felt the pain that so many communities have felt. 

On April 3, 2009 (as my regular readers know) a mass shooting several blocks from where I used to work in Binghamton took the lives of 13 innocents and the man who killed them.  That shooting convinced me to start this blog.  That shooter lived locally and bought the gun locally (at a sporting goods store now closed).

The school psychologist at Sandy Hook grew up in Vestal, another town in our area.

But these shootings were not like our shooting. Buffalo's pain is not our pain.  Our shooting didn't involve a young man who drove some 200 miles to target members of a Black community.  He picked the only supermarket in the area.  He must have known that, sooner or later, everyone in that community shopped there.

What else are we learning?  This man graduated from high school and was apparently attending our local community college. He also live streamed the shooting (which was taken down  but other sites keep posting it) and published a long manifesto with his beliefs.  He drank from the poison waters of extremist sites.  He came with weapons inscribed with symbols and words of hate.  This was, pure and simple, a crime of hate.

He purchased his Bushmaster semi-automatic weapon locally in the Binghamton area (although it was modified after sale in a way that would not be legal in New York.) The gun shop that sold the gun is now being targeted on social media, and has closed for this week, and I will not name it.

These are some of those he killed.  Reports state he had planned to visit other sites to continue his spree but the Buffalo police came too quickly. It's also reported that he may have also scouted out Rochester another major New York city, for a shooting.

By all accounts, this Buffalo neighborhood is a close knit community, and the residents are coming together in their grief as they now have nowhere to buy food.

Worse yet, this wasn't the only active shooter event in our country this weekend.  It was just the most deadly. There was a church shooting in Laguna Hills, California, also described as a hate crime. That shooting was stopped by a heroic doctor who died. There was a shooting in a flea market in Houston.  There were shootings in several locations in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.  There were other shootings that didn't even make the news.

No community is immune from the poison of hatred or the easy availability of weapons, and we ask ourselves again, "why?" If we aren't minorities who are targets of hate crimes (people of color, Americans of Asian-Pacific origin, various religions) we may live in fear, a fear we don't dare show as we go about our everyday lives. (I say "we" because I am a member of one of those groups).  But make no mistake, everyone in this country is at risk.   Hatred is out of control.  It has become mainstream.

Americans have asked that question of "why" too many times now, in this nation.

How many times is too many?

Or will we offer thoughts and prayers yet again, and then move on, leaving the families and friends of Buffalo, of Laguna Hills, of Winston-Salem, of Houston, of previous sites like El Paso, Pittsburgh, Orlando, and Sacramento...so many other towns and places where hate has surfaced, to pick their lives back up?

This time, what will we choose to do?

Compassion for Ourselves

 I've renamed this post and I've rewritten part of it several times. 

Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, ended yesterday evening.  This day has a deep meaning for those of the Jewish faith, as the Almighty makes final determination of our fate for the coming year.  Prior to the beginning of Yom Kippur, the religious Jew has tried to make amends for all his or her wrongdoings of the past year, and asked forgiveness/tries to make things right with those he or she has hurt. Yom Kippur itself is marked by a 25 hour fast and various religious observances.

Here is a brief history of Yom Kippur.

So, why am I blogging this after the holiday has ended?

It's about compassion and caring for each others, and those who give all because they care.

I have been thinking recently of Dr. Adeline Fagan  

Dr. Fagan, who grew up in LaFayette, New York (perhaps an hour from where I live), was a OB/GYN resident in a hospital in Houston, Texas. Dr. Fagan died earlier this month after a two month fight with COVID-19.  She been rotating through a number of positions within the hospital as part of her residency.  As part of this, she worked in the ER and was exposed to COVID-19 patients.

She was 28.

Her parents moved down to Houston to be closer to her, but they were only able to see her (briefly) three times before she died.

I want to take you to LaFayette, New York for a minute.  LaFayette is apple growing country but hundreds of cars must pass this exit off I-81 near Syracuse, New York to experience that beautiful country.

It is beautiful country.

Apple Valley, they call themselves. This is not an apple processing plant but a large orchid is near this business.

It's hard to imagine a young woman growing up in this peaceful place practicing medicine in the bustling city of Houston.  Her dream was to practice OB/GYN medicine, and she was taken from us way, way too soon, miles and miles from home.

Meanwhile, our country continues to tear itself apart.  Anyone who is in the public eye in any way related to COVID seems to be a target for one side of another, in attacks that make anyone wonder where the truth is.

But one thing is for certain.  Those who died should not be forgotten. 

If only we could find our way back to the path of caring for one another.  But perhaps it is too late.  Certain of us don't seem to care.  They do whatever they want, and don't think (or care) about the consequences.

For others, what seems simple to you or me can create the need for consultation with religious authorities for others.  For still others, certain of the recommended practices to curb COVID-19 are unthinkable.  I'm not thinking masks here, which is a whole other (seriously charged) topic in the United States, but, rather, cultures that live in overcrowded situations in multi generational households and refuse not to gather in large family groups for certain observances.

Not all is lost, though.  Here's one viewpoint - enjoy.

If you want still another viewpoint, this post by someone who lived through a civil war several years ago  may scare you, or plunge you into self-denial.  

We may need compassion for the entire human race, and how impossible is that?

Perhaps we start with compassion for ourselves, and go from there.

Can we overcome what seems hopeless?

Is there still hope for us worldwide to escape this second wave, which is already on its way?

We can only continue to move forward, one day at a time.

Taking Life for Granted

Two events shook our country in the past 48 hours.

1. Tornadoes tore through Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina, killing at least (at the time I write this) 23 people, including a 10 year old girl and a six year old boy.

My spouse loves to watch the weather.

Sunday he was watching his radar app because he heard of storms near Americus, Georgia.  We had stayed in a bed and breakfast there once, and have fond memories of our stay.  He put his finger on a couple of radar spots and said "those storms are pure evil".

One of them may have been the storm that hit Lee County, Alabama and killed the 23 people. Some families lost multiple members.

In an instant, their lives changed forever.

I used to live in tornado country - four years in Wichita, Kansas, nearly a year in Wichita Falls, Texas and five years in Northwest Arkansas.  Two years after I left Texas, a tornado hit the Wichita Falls area and killed 45 people. 

When I hear sirens, my heart still stops.  Ironically, the closest I have ever come to a tornado was right here in the Binghamton, New York area, when an EF-1 tornado hit near where I worked at the time.  I remember the people I knew back south and west who survived tornadoes (I met several of them.)


Weather is beyond our control.  We do not respect Nature at our peril.

2.  Luke Perry, once a teen heartthrob, died from a massive stroke he suffered last week, at the age of 52.  Luke was not a member of my generation, but I am seeing younger people I know so impacted.

At some point in your life, the knowledge of mortality knocks on your door.  It can be a brush with a serious illness such as cancer.  It can be caring for your parents in their old age.  Or it can be the death of friends or even actors/actresses of your early life.


It's hard to live life knowing we can leave it at any moment.  Many of us live in denial of that fact, until it is forced upon us.

It's a lesson we all need to be reminded of from time to time.

Challenging Times

The people of Texas are undergoing epic flooding.  It's not the first flood event in our country this year, or the second or the third.  But I think few of us can imagine getting over 50 inches of rain in a matter of days.  One city that has flooded (Houston, Texas) is larger than the states of Connecticut or New Jersey.

Once again a fellowship assembles, a fellowship of those thrown together by circumstance, but heroic nevertheless.

In a blog post from 2011, I called that fellowship 'The Fellowship of the Flood'.  It's a club that you don't ever want to join.  Membership is automatic when you have experienced a flood.

The fellowship is millions strong, and growing.

But, for those who are members of the Fellowship, you know that the experience of being in a flood never leaves you completely.

Ever.

There are two groups of people you can talk to about your flood experiences.

Those who know.

And those who can't imagine.

I belong to several blogging support groups.  Some of their members are directly in this event.  My heart goes out to you all.

I can't imagine what their area is going through, because I know just enough (from personal experience) to know that I can't imagine what they are going through.  My flood was not their flood.  Photos don't do a disaster of this magnitude much justice, anymore than a photo can express what it is like to experience a total eclipse of the sun.

That's the first thing to admit.  You DON'T know what those in Texas, or Louisiana, or Mumbai (yes, India is going through this at the same time we are) are going through, unless you are there.

In September of 2011, after widespread flooding impacted many areas of my state, New York,  I find (going through those posts) of my feeling of gratitude.  That may or may not surprise you.

It is hard to tell people how to support others who are going through a disaster of this magnitude, but just being there to listen is important.

There are some of the things you should know to do if you go through a flood.

There are the strange things, the sad things, the terrible things, you see.  Those sights never leave you.  Trust me on that.

Right now, I suspect it's the everyday things people in the flood zones need.  Clean drinking water.  A place to wash their clothes.

Oh, how I missed having a place to wash my clothes. 

I missed a place to feel human again.

What they don't need are flood tourists.  If you aren't a trained helper, or belong to an organization that knows what they are doing, you will do those people a favor by staying home.

Meanwhile, those flooded look around and see life going on, and wonder when their lives will get better.  You must know it will be a long process.

You may find you need professional help to move on.  You should not hesitate to seek it.  Even a year later.  Even more than that later.  It's not weakness.

For those not affected physically but want to help, this is my advice - be very careful, if you are moved to give for flood relief.  Be careful who you give to.  So many scammers out there.

I also fear, in a way I haven't before, that we may temporarily draw together in the aftermath of this disaster, but before we know it, we in the United States will be at each other's throats again.

With our changing climate, we must learn how to live with floods.

Floods or no floods, we must learn to live with ourselves and our differences.

Top Five Ways Not To Help People After Disasters

This is a repeat of a post from July 2012, with some editing.

Watching the reports of flooding in the state of Texas, something seems so familiar.  The post-Harvey flooding is epic.  So historic.  Thousands and thousands, including a handful of my Facebook friends, affected.  So why does it seem so familiar?

Because, on a smaller scale (a MUCH smaller scale), it happened to my part of upstate New York in August and September of 2011.  It seems like natural disasters strike almost every week, all around the world.  The fickle finger of fate has now landed on Houston, Texas.

Houston has been in my thoughts.  Three of my cousins were born in College Station, Texas and one of them lived in Texas for many years.

I hope you, my dear readers, never have to learn the lessons of disasters first hand the way the residents of Houston are learning.  But I suspect more and more of us will, in the coming days and months.

My post from 2012:

There's a huge market, isn't there, for the "everything was horrible but I/my city/my country overcame, and now everything is hunky-dory" story.

Except, sometimes it just isn't so.

Disasters bring out the best in us but, too often, it also brings out the worst.

What I am about to say may not be popular but it is what I have learned out of the truths of what my neighborhood, my town, my area, went through during a natural disaster in September of 2011.  So again, this is just my personal experience and opinion.

We have been conditioned to think that it is so easy to help those in need.  Just text '12345' (or whatever) and presto, you have helped!

Not necessarily.

But, dear reader, there are other ways you CAN help.  I compiled this list not that long after the flood that hit my area of upstate New York  in September (of 2011).  I don't want to presume, but I have a feeling this may be of help to others who truly want to help, but don't know how. They feel they have to do SOMETHING.  It does need to be the right "something".

5.  Don't come out to see us.  No, really, don't.  First, we aren't animals in a zoo, to be stared at.  Please, give us space.  At first we are in shock but then that shock wears off - and really, we don't want you to see our tears, or some of the things we do that may seem bizarre to some, but actually make sense in context.  If you aren't an emergency worker or with a charity that knows what it is doing, STAY HOME.

4.  Don't take pictures of us.  We aren't one of those commercials where charities use pictures of sad, beaten dogs or starving children to get your sympathy and your dollars.  I got so upset at a cousin (at a family event, no less) a couple of months ago when he told me how he wasn't impacted by the flood but he had gone around and taken pictures where his city did flood.  No Kodak moments, please.  Not unless you are a journalist or a historian.

3.  Don't send clothes.  Well, sometimes we do need clothes but not the clothes that get sent so many times - clothes full of stains, holes, and rips.  If you wouldn't wear it, don't send it.

So many people sent clothes after the flood, and charities were overwhelmed with them.

2.  Don't trash our neighborhood.  We aren't your garbage dump, either.  If you carry in cigarettes, coffee, and sandwiches, please take out what they came in.   Respect us.

1.  Don't call us victims.  We are not victims!  And while I am on the topic of victimization, I hope there is a special place in hell for those who went to charities for help that they didn't need (and literally took food out of the mouths of those who needed it).  Or the "contractors" who showed up, but were really scam artists. 

After our disaster, the people in my neighborhood were very grateful to the volunteer firefighters, who came on September 11, 2011 to pump out basements, the Salvation Army, who served meals, and the many people who did really help: who showed up out of nowhere and started to help with the filthiest of chores or to set up tents and serve meals.  More times than you would think they had been impacted themselves.  Or, they found their workplace closed and just decided to see where nearby the need was greatest.

THAT was true help.  It will not be forgotten.  For many, the road back is long, and they may never be in the same place as they were before.

Today, in 2017,  I would add one other item:  a donation to a major organization experienced in disaster relief might be an excellent way to help, if you are moved by the TV stories.  I will never forget how some of my neighbors depended on the Salvation Army for meals.  Or the Red Cross for infant formula.  The relief organizations need money to operate, and have resources to use donations to buy the goods that are truly needed.  There are many excellent local organizations, too, but you have to do research to find them.  Be careful of scammers!

Just don't exploit us in our hour, day, or year of need. I suspect that is what someone impacted by any disaster would say.

If you have anything to add through your expertise or experience, I welcome your comments.