Newtown, but there just isn't enough time or energy to do that. I want to, but I've been muzzled: first by grief, then by fear, then by responsibility, then by trolls, then by frustration, then by friends, then by time.
When trying to find someplace to channel the grief, to get away from ... well ... me, I discovered a grass roots effort born at a kitchen table by two CT moms rocked by the Newtown massacre (more appropriate than tragedy) called March for Change, addressing the need for common sense gun laws. You think?
So I volunteered, half raising my hand, and pulling it down again and again, to encourage those here in Newtown to come to Hartford to rally for common sense gun laws, if this might be something that would want to do. Or not. It's individual, and not everyone is ready. Most days, we're all just hanging on the best we can.
My only goal: represent Newtown. Make sure Newtown neighbors, families, and friends have the opportunity to attend this march – if they want to. Towns across the state have pledged to send buses (yes, buses of supporters), and I want very much for Newtown to have a powerful presence.
March for Change folks are completely organized, armed with incredible volunteers, linked to Connecticut Against Gun Violence and focused on the forest: the passion behind the commons sense gun legislation.
My focus? The trees. The trees right here in town. And to completely honest – most days, just the trees in my very own yard. Maybe that's selfish, but that's just the way it is.
I want March for Change to, as their brilliant tag line represents: change the conversation, change the culture, change the laws. I really do. But it's all I can do to get my own family on a bus next Friday, go to Hartford and beg like those tiny whos on a fluff ball in Horton Hears a Who! together, united, shouting in quiet whispers:
... we're here ... we're here.
And we're hurting.
Please. Please hear us.