In case you missed it, there was a mass shooting in our nation’s capital on Monday.
Sure, the twitterverse was abuzz with rumors and inaccurate reports all day long, but as far as I can tell, there was more horror expressed over the show Breaking Bad than there was over real events unfolding in DC just days after the 12th anniversary of 9-11.
My office had a staff meeting. Hardly a person mentioned the manhunt going on merely a mile away. The Nats game wasn’t postponed until late in the day. I didn’t see tears or panic-stricken faces. And personally most upsetting is that not one member of my family (except soul sister Kassie) checked in to see if I was okay.
I’m still trying, days later, to come to terms with the apathy of those who shrugged off Monday. Is it because we as a nation are desensitized to acts of violence? Is it because the shooting seemed “contained” to a military base or that the victims were less innocent because of where they worked?
Maybe I’m more sensitive because I was a few blocks away from the Navy Yard at the time the shooting started. Maybe I was on edge because for the entire day the authorities were seeking a potential second shooter who could have been hiding anywhere. Schools were locked down, as was my beloved Senate, leading me to fear a crazy person in camo with a gun was making his way toward the complex where so many of my friends work.
This shooting didn’t garner the nation’s tears the way Sandy Hook did or its attention like the Boston Marathon Massacre. But it was scary, and I know I’m not alone in feeling frustrated at the tepid reaction to Monday’s tragedy.