American kids and American guns

What if a gunman shot up your child’s school and what you had left were text messages? Or a shoe? Or just the memory of saying goodbye that morning? Or any of a number of things parents hold onto when they’ve lost their hearts.

I have been horrified by gun violence in America for years, and my kids have both had to participate in countless drills at school over those same years. Last spring, I happened to pick Oliver up from school just before a gunman opened fire on another school nearby. On our drive home, he received a message from a friend asking if he knew what was happening at Sidwell and in the neighborhood. The school locked down (many kids still there), police cordoned off all surrounding streets, helicopters flew in, and ultimately we found that Burke was being attacked. I remember Oliver and I sitting in our backyard, listening for hours to the rotors of the circling copters (we live close to school), and me thinking “shit this was close; keep it together for Ol.”

Yesterday morning, I received the first of the above texts from Jack. Halfway through our hour of exchange, I heard helicopters fly in. Shit.

J is at any age where I rarely share anything remotely private about him, but I feel the need to publish our exchange because it is both so simple and also everything. Only later yesterday afternoon, as we rearranged his room and put out his new plants, did we acknowledge to each other how scared we’d been.

I, he, all of us are so fucking sick of this.

One parent compiled some of what they heard their kids and their friends saying once home. Their words are lacerating, and I agree with them completely.

“Even though no one was hurt, it’s not true that nothing happened. Everyone was terrified. People were crying. It was so scary. I don’t want to go back tomorrow.

Don’t pretend like nothing happened. Why is everyone so numb to this? We are so ***king scared. This wasn’t a tornado warning. It’s not fine."

"If this is so terrible, treat it like something that’s terrible."

"If you go to school in America, this is going to happen. We have been training for this since kindergarten. That doesn’t mean that today felt like nothing. I thought there was a possibility of dying."

"Do you know how long an hour is when you think you are going to die?"

Why do put our children, parents, teachers through this? Why do we accept this as ok? Guns are worth this? “Freedom” -such a bastardized word now- is worth this?

Ultimately, thankfully, there was no gun. But there could have been. And look what the threat of one did. And for good reason. The odds aren’t really in the kids’ favor.

Another day of school lost. Another hope of normalcy lost. Kids hiding in kilns (yesterday). Kids showing substitute teachers how to lower the blinds and properly lock the doors (yesterday). Kids shushing each other (yesterday; all the time). Teachers finding long poles to wield should an intruder break in (yesterday; all the time). Parents showing up at school, terrified (yesterday; all the time). Parents and kids texting, with fear slipping into the efforts to mask it with love and strength (yesterday; all the time).

Today, a long-term sub Jack has didn’t show up. He’d called a kid a hideous slur, so good riddance, but shit. Jack said, so casually it was like a sharp knife to soft butter, “yesterday I could have died, and today I have no teacher.”

What are we doing? WHAT ARE WE DOING?

Ring of Kerry, Skelling loop, The Blind Piper pub: Ring of Kerry tour day 5

Following Ballynahinch, we spent two nights at Cahernane House Hotel (a lovely, lovely place built as a country mansion in the 1870s) just outside of Killarney town. It was a wonderful respite and I twice treated myself to room service so that I could sit by my spot of garden (see 4th photo) and read and write (I bought a journal in Dublin on Day 1 and diligently pressed flowers and leaves between the pages I wasn’t writing on) and rest.

Day 5 had us driving the Ring of Kerry and Skellig loop. The former is a circular route over the Iveragh Peninsula of southwest Co. Kerry that takes in a variety of towns - Kilorglin, Glenbeigh, Cahersiveen, Waterville, Caherdaniel, Sneem* and Kenmare also feature on the Wild Atlantic Way (an itinerary that winds from the upper reaches of Donegal down the Western coast and around to Cork). The Skellig loop takes you to the mainland point offering the best visual of Skellig Michael (aka Great Skellig), an abandoned 7th century Christian island monastery built on the furthest out of the Skellig Islands. You actually can visit it but doing so requires clear weather, a multi-hour boat ride, and a solid amount of physical fitness.

*Sneem is one of my favorite place names ever.

As an aside, skellig derives from the old Irish word sceillec which translates roughly to splinter of rock.

Star Wars fans know Skellig Michael as the location at which Rey finally finds Luke in The Force Awakens. I was dying to see it and take photos for the boys. What a marvel it is; to think of 7th-century folks schlepping way the hell out into the Atlantic, surely in somewhat rudimentary boats with, at best, minimal life-saving equipment. And THEN they decided to build and live on the furthest thing from land that they encounter. Closer to god, I imagine. Seriously, it is a nearly-miraculous accomplishment and place. Google it and peruse the photos of its sheerness and remoteness (then add a freezing, dark winter day to the mix) and its trails, buildings, and so forth. I very much want to hike it one day.

Anyway, what was supposed to be a day of incredibly gorgeous views was dashed by constant rain. It was our first such day, and although the fog and bluster were often beautiful in their own right and surely made for an authentic Irish experience, it was a shame to arrive back at Cahernane with a relatively empty camera roll.

But that is travel for you. And the wind made the county flags whipping in the wind all the grander. Just a few days hence, Co. Kerry (whose colors are green and yellow) would play Co. Galway (maroon and white) in the All-Ireland Gaelic Football final. Kerry would win.

And, the chilly rain made my lunch of beef-and-Guinness stew with champ potato at The Blind Piper pub even more satisfying than it already was. Divine. If you’re ever in the area, do stop at The Blind Piper! It is a pub extraordinaire!

Cliffs of Moher and the Burren: Ring of Kerry tour day 4

It was rather sad to check out of Ballynahinch, but it meant we were heading south, back through Galway, and down to the Cliffs of Moher. I had always wanted to see the Cliffs, sucker that I am for steep, dramatic views. And, in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, the Cliffs are part of a grand CGI mashup in the scene during which Dumbledore and Harry apparate to the crashing sea, enter the cave, and undergo the horrors necessary to find one of the horcruxes. Neat!

But first, on our way to the Cliffs, we visited Corcomroe Abbey, an early 13th century Cistercian monastery in the Burren region of Co. Clare.

The Burren is a vast limestone plateau (indeed, “the word ‘Burren’ comes from an Irish word “Boíreann” meaning a rocky place”), and in its southeastern area lies Burren National Park. Within the park can be found “examples of all the major habitats within the Burren: Limestone Pavement, Calcareous Grassland, Hazel scrub, Ash/Hazel Woodland, Turloughs, Lakes, Petrifying Springs, Cliffs and Fen.” Fascinatingly,

The Burren region is internationally famous for its landscape and flora. A visit to the Burren during the summer months will leave a person amazed by the colourful diversity of flowering plants living together within the one ecosystem. Arctic-alpine plants living side by side with Mediterranean plants, calcicole (lime-loving) and calcifuge (acid-loving) plants growing adjacent to one another and woodland plants growing out in the open with not a tree nearby to provide shade from the sun. Also found here are certain species which, although rare elsewhere, are abundant in the Burren. Even more amazingly they all survive in a land that appears to be composed entirely of rock.

To the Cliffs! It was actually so stunningly bright that I struggled to take good photos, but I enjoyed a magnificent walk along quite a bit of the visitors’ path, the many views, and the sheep and cows grazing languidly in the highest pastures. My only disappointment was not seeing any puffins. Next time!