I was going to take the easy way out today, in the wake of the Newtown, CT massacre, and say that feelings are indescribable or maybe publish a blank image.  But then the images started coming in and they are already iconic.  There is a picture of a young woman screaming in anguish in a way that surpasses anything that Edvard Munch ever dreamed of in his worst nightmare.  This poor woman, we learn, was awaiting news of the fate of her sister, who worked at the Sandy Hook School.  That image is now burned into my brain forever.  That woman is us. She is every sister, mother, and daughter.

The image is stored in my brain along with others: images of concentration camps, of My Lai, of 9/11, of Columbine, and Aurora.  The list goes on and on.  There are too many of these images and too many events that they represent.

Stephen King is a master of horror fiction.  And I have read that the essence of his mastery lays in the everyday, common place locations of his horror stories.  Well friends, need I say anymore?

The horrible frequency of these events is a measure of our societal depravity.  More alarming, perhaps just as tragic, is the view that we can do nothing about them.  The fault lies not with our politicians, but within ourselves.  As members of a free society, it is time to act.