The Murder of Hope

We were about to exhaust Don Imus as a topic of conversation at the water cooler, and in the watering holes when news of the Virginia Tech massacre arrived. Mass killings on school campuses have become an American phenomenon in recent years, but few of us can accept them as a matter of course. Thirty-two kids and teachers were murdered in moments. The dimension of the crime is stunning. One suicidal young man in a rage with two pistols can cause all that horror.

Two days later, four bombs ripped through Baghdad and killed 183 people. One suicide bomber can do a lot of damage.

It's difficult for some Iraqis to show sympathy for the killings at Virginia Tech.

"I feel sorry that there are innocent civilians getting killed for no reason," said Khalid Mohammed, a 33-year-old civil engineer in Baghdad. "We in Iraq have tasted this curse and we know how difficult it is to lose a loved one. [But] at other times, especially when I'm emotional, I think, 'Let the American people get a taste of what they brought us, death and tragedies and blood everywhere.'"

Harsh. The bitter words come from people whom we were supposed to be helping. No matter were you stand on the War in Iraq, most will agree that something has gone wrong in the worst possible way.

Back in San Francisco, which suddenly seemed serene and beautiful, I stood on the sidewalk talking to Jai Das, the congenial owner of the Edward II Bed & Breakfast Inn at Scott and Lombard. We both expressed sorrow about the ghastly episode in Virginia. A longtime Marina resident overheard us, and interjected, "Everyone's riveted to their TVs, and they all want to know everything about this shooting. I don't get it. Is this really news? I mean, everybody dies. What makes this story so special?"

Harsh. I thought about what he said, and replied, "This is a different kind of incident. You think your kids are safe in a college classroom. These parents have worked so hard to get their kids into these schools, a lot of hope rides with them. This is the murder of hope."

I don't know how convincing that is. I know what our friend means. It's true that everybody dies. But I can't see Katie Couric leading the "CBS Evening News" with, "This just in. Everybody dies." What would she do for a second-day lead? The lead for the second day would have to be: "Breaking news: Everybody lives." In order to die, we have to live. When we hear about massacres of young people on campus -- and innocent people getting blown to shreds in Baghdad -- I have to remember to take the pieces of my life seriously today, and graciously -- but not too seriously, I hope. Katie Couric might come back on the air on the third day, and announce that "Everybody lives -- but it seems we have to suffer."

And Katie's ratings would plunge even lower than they are now. Who wants to hear that stuff? What gripped me about the media coverage of what happened at Virginia Tech was how bright, creative, diligent, and talented these kids were -- how alive they were. They seemed to be doing what you're supposed to do in school, have fun, and scarf it all up.

The students were later honored at a gathering on campus. The college president was remarkably composed at this convocation. Virginia Governor Timothy Kaine was convincingly evangelical. He spoke from the heart with no notes. Poet and professor Nikki Giovanni comforted the students in solid yet lyrical language. The president looked like a president. The whole thing was a class act. Convocation means "calling together." That's why people were riveted to their TVs. It was a way for all of us to participate, to stop and perhaps put our harshness on hold.


Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay, and has a new book in progress. He allows this: "It will have many words." Bruce was thrilled to find a new word recently, used to described Simon Cowell. It's "bloviator," which means "pompous windbag." Bellingham is doing his level best not to become one.