As I word processed the first draft of this column, I was sitting at the picnic table at our campsite in St. Andrews State Park at Panama City, Fla. Looking northeast, we were 150 feet from the Grand Lagoon that is one of the prettiest shades of blue I’ve ever seen. Pelicans and seagulls bobbed on the surface.
We began our journey April 11 with a planned two-night sojourn at the Henry Horton State Park in Chapel Hill, Tenn. We encountered windy conditions, and the semis passing us created suction that tugged at our 31-foot camper. Driver Jim did a superb job keeping us on the road and making good time.
We ate lunch at Arby’s and had a delightful conversation with the cashier. When we requested a roast beef slider for Java, our chocolate lab, the cashier told us about his two huskies — Shadow and Grace. He showed us a picture of Grace covered with snow, lying comfortably on top of a picnic table. I reciprocated with a picture of Java standing knee-deep on our submerged seawall in early March, appearing to walk on water. It’s fun sharing dog stories.
By mid-afternoon we crossed the bridge from Jeffersonville, Ind., to Louisville, Ky. Louisville — where on April 10 a mass shooting occurred at a bank. Five people were killed, including the shooter; eight were injured, including two police officers. The shooter, a bank employee since June 2021, used an AR-15 style rifle he had purchased legally just six days prior. I couldn’t help but think of the shooting as traffic crept through the city. I felt sad for many people — family, friends, acquaintances of the victims, and the entire community — scarred by senseless deaths and injuries. Java just sat in the middle of the backseat peering through the windshield, barking when she spied other canine riders but oblivious to the violence that occurred here.
Our campground at HHSP is roughly 40 miles south of Nashville, Tenn. Nashville, where on March 27 a mass shooting occurred at The Covenant School. Three nine-year-olds’ lives were snuffed out in addition to those of a substitute teacher, a custodian, and an administrator. The shooter, a Nashville resident with no criminal record and a former student of the school from October 2020 to June 2022, had legally purchased seven firearms, including three recovered from the scene — two rifles and a pistol. As we traveled through Nashville, my mind lingered on those lives taken and the living affected by an asinine shooting. Java, who has no idea what a mass shooting is, let alone that one happened here, snoozed.
More craziness erupted at the Tennessee State House on April 6 as two young black representatives were expelled by the Republican supermajority for participating in a protest on the House floor calling for gun law reforms. A third protesting representative, a white female in her sixties, escaped expulsion by one vote. Lawmakers said she was spared because she didn’t use a bullhorn. I say (baloney sausage — and I’m sorry about that!
I redirected my thinking away from shootings and focused on the beauty of nature surrounding us — rolling hills with cattle, sheep, goats, and horses punctuating the landscape. Java had perked up by then. Her nose was twitching as she picked up scents through her ever-so-slightly opened window. Without a clue to the travesties occurring in legislatures, she fully enjoys her world.
I opened the novel I had started reading a couple days before departure, “The Librarian of Burned Books” by Brianna Labuskes. The story shifts back and forth from Berlin (1933) to Paris (1936) to New York (1944). In Berlin the story adds fictionalized details of the very real May 10 book burning. Nazi-dominated student groups carried out public burnings in 34 university towns and cities of books they deemed “un-German.” Seeking to purify their language and literature and foreshadowing an era of state censorship and control of culture, the works of Jewish authors like Albert Einstein and Sigmund Freud and American authors such as Ernest Hemingway and Helen Keller were pillaged and burned. Over 25,000 books were destroyed in what Newsweek magazine called “a holocaust of books” and Time “a bibliocaust” (www.pbs.org). Joseph Goebbels delivered a fiery address to some 40,000 people in Berlin, saying “No to decadence and moral corruption! Yes to decency and morality in family and state” (encyclopedia.ushmm.org).
Does that sound familiar?
Forgive me, but I couldn’t help thinking about recent attacks by school boards and patrons on literature, teachers, and librarians. How far will such attacks here go? Jim, Java, and I spent five nights in DeSantis-land. I am appalled at how far Florida’s governor has gone censoring reading material, controlling lives, and attacking lifestyles. His actions remind me of the actions of the fascists of World War II. Java’s lucky: she has no concept of history repeating itself.
Here’s the thing: I limited my news intake primarily to weather forecasts this vacation. I didn’t want to hear about other mass shootings. They’ve become frighteningly regular. According to The Gun Violence Archive, in the first 10 days of April, there were 15. Meanwhile, many of our nation’s and states’ legislators make excuses for gun violence in order to maintain favor in the eyes of gun manufacturers and lobbyists. What will it take to create nationwide common sense gun reform?
And I avoided the news because I didn’t want to hear about more school boards and governors promoting censorship and controlling culture. I’m fed up with school corporations and states not trusting educators to provide appropriate materials and curriculum for students but trusting them to carry and use a gun in the school environment. Does any of this make sense? Are we becoming as clueless as Java?
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Editor’s Note: This is one of a series of articles written by a group of retired and current teachers — LaNae Abnet, Ken Ballinger, Billy Kreigh, Kathy Schwartz, and Anna Spalding. Their intent is to spur discussions at the dinner table and elsewhere. You may also voice your thoughts and reactions via The News-Banner’s letters to editor.
