The following was among the selections read during Arbor West Neighbors’ recent literary salon:
Our great nephew was at Columbine.
Yes, that Columbine.
Yes, on that day.
Less than a year before, we had stayed with his family in Colorado for a few days. They gave us a tour of the area, proudly showing us the new high school with the pretty name. When I stopped at my mailbox at work that infamous day [April 20, 1999] before heading home, it was with disbelief that I overheard people in the office talking about Columbine High School. Could there be two Columbines? Then I was even more shocked at what they said had happened. All the way home I wondered and worried.
As luck, or fate, would have it, Jonathon survived because he needed to go to the bathroom. As he emerged a teacher yelled “Run!” and they did so through a hail of bullets. Because he was a student leader, we watched him being interviewed on CNN and were a bit in awe that someone we knew would be on national news.
The story, unfortunately, doesn’t end there. I have heard about survivor’s syndrome, which refers to survivors engaging in risky behavior. A few years later, because he was so outstanding, he was hired by an aerospace company while still in college. That gave him the money to buy a motorcycle, take flying lessons and rent airplanes. One evening he talked a couple of friends into joining him on a flight. He didn’t do anything wrong, but flying a small plane, especially at night, is risky. A nearby pilot was flying with a broken radar transponder, so flight controllers didn’t know he was there. As fate would have it, in all that space over Denver, they collided, not only killing all of them, but also people sleeping in houses below. For a second time, we heard announcers on CNN talking about Jonathon Ladd.
We went to see his family, waiting, as his mom requested, until after the chaos of the funeral was over. We saw the museum that had been his room, preserved as he left it. His mom was never the same and cut off all contact. We never heard from her again.
When they count the victims of Columbine do they count Jonathon? I’m sure they don’t. His mom? His younger brother, who not only suffered a loss but was lost in the shuffle? His classmates in the plane? The people who died sleeping in their homes? Where do the ripples of violence end?