Remembering Columbine: A view from my office chair

3admin • 20th Apr 2009 • Posts • Columbine, violence

Photo: Matt Brett

This morning I find myself sitting in my office chair working as I reflect on the tragic events at Columbine High School ten years ago today. Though our view of violence has been amplified since 1999, the continued threat has only increased.  Unfortunately it seems, news reports like the one I heard this morning on NPR are all that shake me from the lull. It’s easy to fall into the responsibilities of life and forget that the world is ripe with children who are screaming out for someone to listen and love them.

My office chair has become a metaphor to me. That’s where I heard the news of Columbine, and watched as planes crashed into the World Trade Center towers. I also found myself in the same spot as I filed my report on the Timothy McVeigh execution. The full cycle of violence, all from an office chair.

Columbine hits hard because I grew up near the school. I attended Lakewood High School, one of many high schools in one of the nation’s largest county school systems. I played basketball tournaments in the Columbine gym and football on their grass fields. I’m no different than any of the other thousands of kids that recall similar memories of Columbine. I suspect deep down everyone who lived, worked, or played near the school represses the sense that I/we could have done something to prevent what happened that day.

For ten years I’ve lived under the assumption that Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold were deeply disturbed psychopaths who met by chance. Dave Cullen’s new book Columbine depicts a very different story. While Harris was a textbook psychopath, Klebold’s makeup was very different. His diary shares the story of a deeply depressed young man who is constantly writing about love and a world not willing to show him any.

So here I am ten years later blogging from my office chair about the tragedies of Columbine. That voice I hear deep inside during times of prayer and reflection is telling me to get up from my chair and go hug my children, and tell them how much I love them. I hope you will do the same today and every day. Blessings.