It was the quintessential American holiday- -the 4th of July. The location was not only idyllic but classic- -a small American town nestled among the gentle hills, rolling plains and gently streaming waters of MId-America.
The whole scene- -a lovely summer day, a Main Street closed to traffic for a parade to pass, kids running up and down the sidewalks or sitting on the curb while their parents and elders sat in lawn chairs behind them, the high school band marching proudly in their summer fatigue uniforms and playing the school fight song, politicians and civic leaders riding in the back seat of convertibles borrowed from local car dealers, all sorts of groups and associations and clubs walking down the street behind their American and club flags- -the whole scene could have been lifted from the opening of "Mr. Smith Goes To Washington". In fact, a scene almost exactly like it featured in the opening minutes of that 4th of July cinematic staple, "Yankee Doodle Dandy".
It was all as American as the holiday it celebrated.... until the shots rang out. Seventy of them, the police say, in less than a minute. In that minute the band dispersed into a mob running for its life. The elders sat frozen in shock until they, or someone near them, keeled over from a wound. Parents grabbed their little ones and, in an inspired act of caring for their young, plopped them into curbside dumpsters whose impenetrable sides would shield them from the flying bullets.
The cops, quickly recovering from their initial shock, began running toward the sound of the gun. Two doctors in the crowd of spectators stopped in mid-flight to kneel and help the wounded. Firemen riding their apparats in the parade jumped off their vehicles to help.
And even so seven people were killed, 30+ wounded, everyone emotionally scarred for days, for weeks, maybe forever.
If you're not safe on the Main Street of your own little town in the middle of a 4th of July parade with police and firemen saturating the crowd; if you're not safe there and then, where and when are you safe.
And this carnage was only one of nine- -yes, nine- -mass casualty shootings in America over the holiday weekend.
It seems that besides the parades and bands and fireworks, besides the ice cream cones and hot dogs, the frisbee tosses and pick-up ball games that have always marked the 4th of July, we now have the new but increasingly common feature of an active shooter event.
What a country. I'm sure Washington and Jefferson, Madison and Monroe, the celebrated Mr. Hamilton and the under-rated Mr. Paine would all be proud of what we have let ourselves become.
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