Gun Violence – There’s a Grief That Can’t Be Spoken

Marius, you’re no longer a child
I do not doubt you mean it well
But now there is a higher call.
Who cares about your lonely soul?
We strive towards a larger goal
Our little lives don’t count at all.

 

Gun control is a platform I consider myself to have strong feelings about, especially regarding our resistance for change.  I had considered blogging about my thoughts and presenting questions I have after the November 5^th First Baptist Church shooting in TX, but something better fell into my lap today that I wanted to share with you all.

One of the greatest benefits of working as an actor at a medical college is that I get the opportunity to work with performers from all walks of life.  My friend, John, was an ensemble member in the Broadway production of Les Mis from 1998 to 2001, and then joined the Broadway revival in 2006.  For those of you who know me, you know that’s about as close to the dream as it gets, so naturally, I always pick his brain when we get to work together.  We got on the political subject of mass shootings and gun control today and John mentioned that the performance of Les Mis the night of the Columbine shooting in 1999 was one of the most moving professional experiences he had ever been through.

At the time, the Columbine massacre was the deadliest school shooting in history and ranked fifth in general mass shootings, with 13 people killed.  Columbine was the first general mass shooting in nearly eight years, and afterwards, another seven years would pass without one. But as of this month, following the First Baptist shooting, Columbine is not even in the top 10 for deadliest mass shootings in modern American history.  Now, five of the past six years have included at least one shooting with 10 or more casualties.

The following excerpt came from the Columbine Wikipedia page:

“In addition to the shootings, the complex and highly planned attack involved a fire bomb to divert firefighters, propane tanks converted to bombs placed in the cafeteria, 99 explosive devices, and car bombs. The perpetrators, senior students **names omitted**, murdered 12 students and one teacher. They injured 21 additional people, and three more were injured while attempting to escape the school. The pair subsequently committed suicide.”

John spoke a bit about the media coverage and the massive public reaction, which I was able to recall as I was middle school age at the time.  I also read a recent NY Times article on mass shootings with a subtitle that I really related to:

At some point, “How could this happen?” gave way to “Here we go again.” 

The Columbine reaction was the former and according to John, the event was heavy on the hearts of theatre goers as well as actors the evening of April 20^th.  He described that up until that day, many of the ensemble members had settled into a common broadway rut of “phoning in performances” or even goofing around on stage.  But that performance, they approached moments like the ABC Café scene and “Red and Black” with a surge of emotion in their voices.  He said there was an energy on stage unlike he had ever felt, which ultimately led up to the battle scenes at the barricade.  Gavroche’s death was particularly disturbing that night and he said that the image of young boys shooting at each other was almost too much for audience members to bear.  Actors were sweating together and shedding tears while guns were fired and explosives were detonated on stage.  This, of course, led to the iconic “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” piece, which was especially difficult for the actor playing Marius to make it through.  John described his voice quivering while he held back emotion that hadn’t before been exhibited.  Audience members were sobbing, and after the song, there was an eerie moment of silence before the applause.  I can’t even imagine the impact that this piece of art had on audience members that night, let alone stage performers.

This feels like a strange way for me to express my feelings regarding the recent shooting in Texas, but in the moment, John’s story was exactly what I needed to hear.  I felt like people weren’t talking about it enough.  Like we were becoming numb to the news and adopting an attitude that these events are now considered commonplace and that there is no way to prevent it.  Expressing my outrage and shock over the lack of media coverage on this recent event wasn’t enough.  I wanted action.  I wanted change.  I needed to be moved to emotion over the tragic loss and John’s story helped take me to that place.

I have a huge confession, and that is that I’m not very politically-minded because thinking about political platforms tends to make me feel helpless and I hate feeling like I can’t make a difference or initiate change.  What can we do from here?  How can we work together to overcome the stubborn ideals of hanging on to our right to bear arms and put stricter regulations in place?  The answer seems quite simple to me, but I guess nothing is ever really that easy.

There’s a grief that can’t be spoken,
There’s a pain goes on and on
Empty chairs at empty tables,
Now my friends are dead and gone

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me
That I live and you are gone
There’s a grief that can’t be spoken,
There’s a pain goes on and on

Phantom faces at the window,
Phantom shadows on the floor,
Empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will meet no more.
Oh my friends, my friends don’t ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friend will sing no more.