It came out of nowhere.
This evening while taking photographs downtown, an impulse made me decide to turn off my usual path and into a strange neighborhood. As I drove around the unfamiliar streets, I saw an interesting looking church steeple a few blocks away, and headed over to check it out. Distracted by the steeple and NPR, I turned down a small side street without noticing how crowded it was with cars and people. It sunk in when I was about halfway down the narrow street... something was going on just ahead. I slowed down and then stopped, waiting patiently for the car ahead of me to move on. Instead, the driver turned off the car and got out. The hell? I looked behind me. There were three cars there, already empty, blocking me in, their drivers joining the growing crowd a few yards ahead of me. Trapped, I resigned myself to an experience, shut the engine off, and got out of the car.
It was a gathering of family, friends and neighbors to honor the young victim of a drive-by shooting, a 19 year old boy. The crowd was somber, a contrast to the bright sun and gentle breeze of a beautiful June evening. Men of all ages stood, stoicly, wearing t-shirts with photos of the victim. Women passed out flowers, hugged new arrivals, held votive candles, cried. Someone read a poem in a low voice that shook with emotion, but I was too far away to hear the words. I looked around the crowd as she read, struck by the complete absence of anger. There was none, only a sort of resignation that I found even more chilling than a lust for vengeance would have been.
I don't really have much to add to this little vignette except a reminder of why we fight to take back control of our America: families and communities torn apart by violence and death, whether in a desert halfway around the world or in an inner city neighborhood where opportunities simply don't exist. We need to succeed. The stakes are very high.
I know this gloomy diary came out of nowhere. Maybe that's the point. Bad things come out of nowhere, like memorial services on strange streets or bullets from passing cars. Good things don't. They take work, planning, perserverance and a bit of luck. Better days are ahead for us if we keep fighting the good fight. Thank you.