The surreal night off

What a surreal night. I got news from my dissertation chair that she's sending my revised concept paper on to the committee for the second time, and if they approve it, she'll forward the paper to the Graduate School for approval. Or rejection, as the case may be. I'm hopeful.

At the same time I get this good news, I am at home because classes were cancelled for this evening. There was a shooting at the shopping mall across the street from our Clackamas campus, so the entire area is on lockdown right now. The freeway, the buses, the MAX train line, all are shut down.

My new phone arrived today in the mail: A cordless phone with a second handset and an answering machine. I've been answering machine-less for a week, which isn't really so bad. I rather like being incommunicado. So with mixed feelings, after my mid-day nap, I opened up the box and got the system installed. Three minutes after I hooked it up, all the phones in my apartment started ringing. Loudly. And my cell phone started buzzing. That is how I knew that something was going down. Something to do with work. Something bad.

The robot voice said: There has been a shooting at the Clackamas Town Center Mall. I turned on the radio, but they didn't know much. I called the campus. Our perky receptionist said they knew about the shooting, and they were all leaving. Oh, and by the way, night classes are cancelled. A few minutes later all my phones rang again. Another robot: Classes at the Clackamas campus are cancelled. Lucky me, I got the news just before I left for work.

Unfortunately, my unexpected night off comes at a cost: three dead (one the shooter) and one seriously wounded. Some apparently random gunman with a semi-automatic rifle opened fire in the mall. He shot three people and then took his own life. The mall is lit up like a Christmas tree. I'm glad I'm not there. I'm glad I'm watching the aftermath unfold on the local news channels. I'm warm, I'm dry, I'm alive. I was never in danger, but I cried a little bit listening to the stories of the witnesses.

We see this kind of violence on the news all the time. Until it comes close to home, we always imagine it happens to someone else, someplace else. It is bizarre to recognize the location, the buildings, and know that I've been there, I've shopped there, I've eaten in that food court. If I ever go back to that mall, I'll walk the marble floors and wonder, is this where that woman died? Is this where the shooter walked? This event will ripple out into the community as stories get shared. It will take on a larger life.

Random violence is like an earthquake: unpredictable, uncontrollable. You can't avoid it by being a good person, hanging out with good people, living a clean life. It can get you anywhere, random violence. No one is safe. Children, old people, nice people, anyone can be cut down. The feather of death brushes by us all the time, doesn't it? On Thursday when I go back to work, I will drive by the mall and feel a little sick. I'll pray to whatever deity I may subscribe to that day to keep us all safe from random insanity. If I live through the day, I hope I remember to be grateful.