I don’t know what day it is. It’s so weird to not be able to keep track. Traveling across countries on a weird schedule. Kinda like the week between Christmas and New Years, traveling between years on a weird schedule.
I’m only in Zurich for about 48 hours. It is so beautiful. The weather is cool, rainy. Everyone is nice. And beautiful. Everyone is so beautiful. I also fit right in here–lots of people wearing mostly black, and earth-toned colors. Very simple pieces, color-blocked patterns, they have really good backpacks. I want a new cute backpack so bad, but no other back to put it on. My octogenarian art teacher style was made for this place.
All of the shops are so beautifully designed, so clean. A furniture store, incredible. A textile store, outstanding. Pottery, bookstores, clothing shops. I almost walked into a freaking vape store because it was so beautiful. What are these mysterious oils in here? Oh, um, vape juice. Just kidding.
I have the best salad of my life. Warm goat cheese, baked in some kind of dough, with honey and walnuts, on a bed of lettuce with house dressing. And a whiskey coke because I haven’t had that since I left Memphis. Reminds me of home.
I don’t get around the city much. I sleep so well the first night, and stay in bed late. Probably because I’m completely exhausted from not sleeping. But what I do see of it is magical.
I find myself laying in bed scrolling my phone Tuesday night, I can’t sleep. News of the latest shooting comes in. This time, kids. No.
I stay up most of the night scrolling. Then try to find something, I don’t know, happy, uplifting, peaceful, something to help me fall asleep. Doesn’t really work. I basically fall asleep with my phone in my hand for a couple of hours.
I wake up, pack my bag to go to my next hotel, the one I booked for the day I was originally supposed to be traveling from Venice. Oh! I need to get my train ticket for Paris for Thursday! A bit of searching. And nothing for Thursday. What the heck. Well, I guess I’m going today. I cancel my second hotel for Zurich, book a hotel for the night in Paris before my apartment is ready, and check out.
I find a nice cafe to campout in while I wait for the train. Just a simple breakfast of oven-baked eggs and bread with jam. And a cappuccino. So good.
But I find myself on my phone again scrolling through article after article. The children identified. The events of the day. Op-eds about legislation. More about Buffalo from a little over a week ago. I just start crying in the middle of the stupid cafe. I’m so mad, and so sad. I put my sunglasses on and wipe my tears with the napkin. Sitting in the middle of such a beautiful place in such pain. Such sadness.
I ride the train to Paris. It’s fine except for my motion sickness and the man next to me scraping at his fingernails with a knife.
I get in a little late, grab some food, and head back to my room. I’m tired and hoping for sleep. But I cannot sleep. So much on my mind. And a weight on my chest.
And now I’m sitting in a juice bar a little ways down from my apartment until I’m able to access it. I still have a few hours. And so, I’m drinking some very good fresh-pressed juice, and listening to podcasts and reading articles, and trying to gather information. Because I’ve discovered it’s the only way I can make sense of the world sometimes. Talking through things. Reading. With knowledge and information.
I start thinking back to when I was a kid, growing up with a very conservative family. I mean, my grandfather, an eighth-grade educated, but so smart, WWII veteran, volunteered at the Shelby County Republican Headquarters fairly frequently. And when I was staying at my grandparents’ house during the day while my parents worked, I’d walk by his office to the back bedroom to play Barbies, or back again to the kitchen, and he would always be watching C-SPAN. It was generally always a session of Congress. It looked so boring. I was always bummed when he would watch it in the living room, because that meant I couldn’t watch movies–it was the only room with a working VCR. When we got in his car, usually some Republican talk radio. A crusty Bob Dole sticker on his back bumper.
My parents were conservative, my grandparents too. I learned all the things. Some things I wish I never learned. A process of unlearning and finding my own way. Gathering knowledge and information. Kind friends who were patient and helpful on that journey. Forever grateful for the information they shared. And their patience. And kindness.
I believed the things until they stopped making sense. When I stopped to think about them, I couldn’t rationalize any of it. I would get in huge arguments with my dad. Almost not worth it, but I guess it was a process of finding my way and my voice.
At some point my grandfather stopped volunteering. And then stopped voting. He said no one was worth his vote anymore. I wonder what he would think today.
I’ve had gun violence in my family. One of the most painful moments of my life. I never saw the gun, never saw the person after it happened. She was gone. It ripped through my family. We never talked about it after. We never recovered. Never. My parents were a shell of themselves. It changed our lives forever. I don’t know that I’ve ever told anyone this, but three times in my life I have had a dream where I hear a gun shot so loud next to my ear that I shoot up in bed. Only three times, and no other dream has had the same effect.
So I personally get uncomfortable around guns. Very uncomfortable. Want absolutely nothing to do with them. I’ve seen them misused more than I have seen them used “safely.”
I say all of that to say, I have my story, my journey and where I have landed. And maybe my personal opinion isn’t the point. We can all have our opinions. But make it make sense. Please, make it make sense.
I can’t imagine the fear of staring at one in a classroom as a child; during a routine traffic stop; in a church; in a grocery store; a movie theater. But that’s someone’s right. To own something that wields so much fear and power. Over someone’s life? At the end of the day that’s all we have in this world, our life.
That surely can’t be right. What is meant by the Second Amendment? Read it to me and tell me how it makes sense. What does it mean? And what does it mean for us now? People have been arguing those words for decades. And what is the price? What is happening now is not the answer. Is not. I don’t know that I have the answer, but it’s not this.
I’m devastated by what’s happening at home. It’s weird to be across the ocean and look back at it. Like looking over your shoulder while something smolders behind you. The feelings like a deja vu. Mass shootings, leaked Supreme Court drafts. But how’s the economy? I will be the first person to tell you, the money doesn’t matter when you’re missing the people you love. Sitting in the sunshine looking out over the Limmat.
I wasn’t even included in the original “We the People.” Lots of people weren’t. Don’t quote something to me from the 17th Century when women weren’t even granted the right to vote until 1920. I don’t want anything from a religious text; there is a separation between church and state. I don’t want some baseless “scientific” claims. I don’t want to hear from congressman who don’t understand basic anatomy. I’m constantly appalled at the unintelligence of the people supposedly representing me in government.
I don’t want to hear about self-defense and good guys with guns. Don’t want to hear about mental illness as the root cause. Arm the teachers. Teach the children how to hide and be quiet. Let’s not jump to conclusions about military-style weapons and high-capacity ammunition. It’s just the price to pay for our rights. Don’t want to hear it anymore.
Haven’t we evolved? At all?
We are on the path to make a “more perfect Union.” It says that, those documents say that. Not completely, fully, finished perfect, “more perfect.” Those documents that founded it are living. A process to get to “more perfect.” With knowledge and facts and conversation and real thought, for the people. We the people. The United States has been described as an experiment. We can’t let it be a failed one. Please.
Anyway. I’m sad right now. Really, really sad. But about to get some food and more fresh juice. Felt silly to not tell you how I was feeling about these things when I’ve told you all the other things. Thanks for reading.
Some of the things I’m listening to/reading below:
An outstanding podcast about the Supreme Court. From the guys who do Radiolab (The OG podcast that got me started listening to podcasts). This one is about the Second Amendment. It has an interesting history you should hear.
Runnin' Down a Dream 