Guns Are Us!
It was a warm, sunny day before her eighth birthday. She swears nothing escapes her, but eight is such a tender, innocent age.
After shopping for presents, cards, and decorations, the three of us left the mall and headed home. One of the policemen swarming the neighborhood that day stopped our car and looked inside before waving us in.
Less than two hours had elapsed before the quiet, residential community looked like a scene from “Cops.” Sirens were blaring, red or blue lights were flashing, emergency vehicles were parked crazily, up and down the highway.
It was June 21st, 1972. After getting the kids settled and watching their favorite television programs, I locked the door behind me and ran to the neighbor across the street.
We were used to seeing the playpen on the front lawn.Charlie’s baby daughter, Kelly Ann, played and cooed, unaware that she would never know her father. He was so thrilled to have his first daughter, after fathering three sons. Charlie was one of the first men killed as he climbed the stairs to find out what the commotion was.
Charlie’s youngest son is my daughter’s age. He was ultimately educated at Girard College, a school for fatherless boys. Charlie was educated there as well.
There was pandemonium everywhere. One neighbor was dead. The architect who designed our church was dead. Four other businessmen lost their lives.
Two men dropped from their second floor offices as the murderer fought to get in. They ran across the highway to the Church convent. Glenn, a young pressman was seriously wounded and subsequently died some months later. One man saved himself by standing on a toilet in a locked bathroom stall.
In the confusion Edwin Grace was rushed to the hospital after turning his gun on himself. It was later we learned he was the killer.
Grace was only killing men that day. Apparently, he was angry at the employment agency on the second floor. Seems they couldn’t place him.
The five women who worked for Charlie escaped death. At the viewing they were huddled together sobbing, their complexions a somber shade of green.
It’s difficult to remember that day without remembering all the victims, both living and dead.
It was a day that changed so many lives, much as the one that changed the lives of the survivors of Aurora.
But, wait! There’s more!
posted by Dot Calm @ 10:58 AM
