I can no longer sign petitions relating to gun control. The NRA is stronger than me, stronger than you, even stronger than the President of the United States!

It took hundreds of petitions and some personal loss before being forced to take a cavalier attitude regarding the gun madness that prevails in our country.

I’ve become calloused...

School uniforms should be available in Kevlar (in a variety of colors) and camouflage cammys in coordinated colors...

Also, school kids should be required to wear football helmets every day, no excuses!...to all classes...uniforms in coordinating colors....anyone found out of uniform will get 6 demerits!...

It took many, many years for me to become this cynical. Today, I simply refuse to watch the bloodletting in horrible detail of the latest massacre.

If you have a minute or two, compare this country to any other country on this planet. I’m sure you  won’t be surprised to learn that the United States has more deaths using guns than any nation on earth.

Well, finally, there’s something we're first in! Thank you, NRA. Thank you ever so much.

I’ve written on this subject before. Whenever there is another massacre. Nevertheless, it still stings.

Years ago I owned and operated a small graphics service. There were two typesetting machines; a large one that I usually operated, and the smaller one that was used by the free lancers.

Sue had a full-time job, but she would come after her work day and set type for me using the smaller typesetter.

Knowing she was skipping dinner, I would fix a plate of snacks and we’d work side-by-side until 11 pm.

Tony, her childhood sweetheart would park in front of the house and wait for her.

Sue and Tony married a short time after I met her. The wedding was in Philadelphia. I was so pleased to be invited. She was a beautiful bride.

They honeymooned in Phoenix, Arizona, combining it with visiting some family.

The voice on the radio reported a young woman being shot to death while sunning herself pool side.

A sick feeling overtook my mind and body. It was palpable.

The viewing was in Philadelphia, The line of mourners meandered around the city block. The room where she was laid out was quiet except for occasional sobs.

While I was there, Tony’s wheelchair was rolled up to the casket. He was calling, Sue. Sue. The bottle draped over the armrest was probably injecting a sedative.

But, wait! There’s more!

Charlie was thrilled to have a daughter after the three boys. Eleven month old Kelly Ann was content as she cooed and played in her playpen on the front lawn that hot June day.

It seemed the sirens blared from every direction. My little red Dart was closely examined as the officer asked several questions before allowing me to enter the quiet, upscale neighborhood.

Once my daughters were safely in the house, I ran across the street to find out what all the commotion was.

Charlie was one of the first to be shot. His body was found on the steps leading to the entrance of the office building. Four other business men lost their lives that day.

One man jumped from a second floor window after literally hanging by his fingertips. His life was spared.

One survived by hiding in a mens bathroom stall.

Glenn, the young pressman, was shot in the stomach and lived for a few years after the attack.

Finally, Edwin Grace shot himself.

Not before killing or wounding all the men in the office building that day.

Oddly, he didn’t shoot or kill any women.

But, wait! There’s more!

The Catholic parochial school was directly across from where the massacre had taken place.

A few short years later the fourth graders didn’t make much of the fact that their new teacher never raised her right arm.

After being nagged by the students, she explained why she was left-handed.

A shooting in the Catholic school across town resulted in the death of a priest and a serious wound to Miss Flynn.

She could no longer bring herself to teach there and transferred to the parish school my daughters attended.

But, wait! There’s more!

After relocating to a quiet community on the east coast, we didn’t do the banking electronically, but would stop in at the bank where Carolyn was a young teller. She would talk about her performance as a thespian in the local theater.

She never mentioned that she was divorced.

One day Carolyn’s ex tricked her into a meeting at the trailer park where he lived.

An argument ensued and he murdered her with a gun he had hidden on the bed.

He served a few years in prison for Carolyn’s murder.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I learn about the latest massacre. How can we allow these beautiful, innocent children be so violently killed at the hand of yet another deranged American??

When will the people be outraged enough to demand an end to this madness?

How many more deaths before someone stands up to the NRA to say, Enough!