Don’t try to answer the 'why' of NIU gunman’s deeds
Now that we know the identity of the suicide-gunman - Stephen Phillip Kazmierczak - from Thursday’s mass shooting at Northern Illinois University, it answers the "who" question of what happened. And we already know the "where," "how," "what," and "when" aspects of his evil act, taking the lives of five NIU students and wounding 20 more, which I wrote about in my Saturday column, found at http://www.post-trib.com/news/davich/index.html.
Now comes the tricky part, attempting to answer the final question in our minds: Why?
As I've written before, we’ll surely hear from countless experts, guessing what triggered the 27-year-old killer to do what he did, like they actually have a clue.
Yet they don’t.
Not really.
It’s the “why” about such human acts of inhumanity that grips us, confounds us, and perplexes our personal prism of understanding.
Still, we will now try to make sense of the senseless.
We will attempt to extract logic from the illogical.
We will try to comprehend the incomprehensible.
It’s human nature to do so.
In this case, to find "answers" explaining Kazmierczak's actions.
But sometimes there are no such answers to be found.
To illustrate my point, again, go back to Jan. 29, 1979, when 16-year-old Brenda Ann Spencer committed a similar shooting spree at a San Diego elementary school.
That morning, she killed two and wounded nine, including several little kids, for no apparent reason.
After the six-hour ordeal ended, police asked her the same question we now wonder about the NIU shootings. Why?
Spencer calmly replied, “I don’t like Mondays.”
That simple, that complex, that senseless.
Later, her infamous quote became a hit rock song for the Boomtown Rats, “I Don’t Like Mondays.”
“And nobody's gonna go to school today, she's going to make them stay at home.
“And daddy doesn't understand it, he always said she was as good as gold.
“And he can see no reason, ‘cause there are no reasons.
“What reason do you need to be shown?”
After Thursday's massacre at NIU, a NIU professor told media that Kazmierczak "seemed as normal as you or I." Of course he did. Isn't that often the case?
This is just another reason why maybe we shouldn’t look for reason in an unreasonable scenario.
Maybe it’s a good thing we can’t fathom this madman’s mindset or motive.
Maybe we should simply admit we don’t know why. And be thankful we don’t.
In my newspaper column today, found online at http://www.post-trib.com/news/davich/index.html, I shared notes about a few couples I noticed in public - at a bar, in the grocery store, etc. - and how they treated each other when they figured no one was watching. I wrote this Cupid's Day column not to reveal public glimpses about the couples' slings and arrows, but to discover private glimpses about ours.
I also promised a blog bonus: A list of my all-time favorite, top-notch, can't miss romantic gifts and gestures for the Valentine's Day challenged. Maybe it's you. Maybe it's your partner. Maybe you both can use a few ideas or suggestions. If so, here you go.
Happy Valentine's Day.
*Start the day with a long, passionate kiss, the kind you two used to give each other before the - yyaaaaawwwnnnn - peck-on-the-lips-before-leaving-for-work kind of smooch.
*Write an old-fashioned love letter, complete with fond, heartfelt, and detailed memories of your first date, first kiss, or wedding day. Use fancy paper, put it in a fancy envelope, and seal it with wax drippings from a red candle with your initials carved on top.
*Empty one of her nearly empty perfume bottles (or his cologne bottles) and fill it with sand. Then peel off its label and replace it with a label of your own saying - "Extra Time" - something you never have enough of together, right? To top it off, use sand from a favorite or special beach in your past.
*While she's at work, fill her car with various sizes of red balloons. The cost is minimal, except for the hyperventilating from blowing up so many balloons. But this way, you can get winded on the same day you take her breath away.
* Make a personalized CD of his favorite songs and secretly insert it in his car radio that morning before he drives to work. Then turn the radio on. This way, when he starts his car he has no choice but to listen, and appreciate you.
*Sneak home from work an hour early and prepare a bubble bath for her, complete with scented lotions, rose petals, her favorite music (not yours), a sexy snack and a warm towel fresh out of the dryer. THEN, go out to dinner, after all the other lovers leave eateries for a movie.
*Use a whole pad of tiny Post-It notes to tell her how much you love her and leave them EVERYWHERE you possibly can - her car, her job, the diaper bag, the medicine cabinet, etc. If you're lucky, real lucky, she'll miss a few and find them later this summer.
*Meet him at the door after work with a s-l-o-w dance to "your song."
*Take your partner on a short tour of the places where you both first met, first kissed, first dated, got married, (got pregnant?!) and so on, complete with a map as a Valentine's Day 2008 souvenir.
*Ask a few high school kids who are in the marching band to shadow you when you surprise your mate at his workplace. Nothing says "I love you'' like "76 Trombones'' and a dozen Hershey kisses.
*Leave a dozen mushy phone messages on his workplace voice mail immediately after he leaves for work. He'll first think he's swamped with business calls, only to realize he's just swamped with you.
*Shamelessly flirt with your mate in public until they either beg you to quit or beg you to leave and go home with them.
*Write something romantic with soap on the bathroom mirror, his car's rearview mirror, or her vanity mirror. And lighten up, Mr. Neatnik. It washes off.
*Take your man to test drive a 2008 Porsche or some other totally out-of-reach car. Cruise through a couple of drive-thru fast food joints, stop by that snobby neighbor's house, and then take lots of photos of you both in the car and mail them to every single person you've ever been jealous of.
*Call each other off from work and play hooky, just like you did in high school.
*Make a ransom note-style love letter by cutting out each word from a newspaper or a magazine and gluing them on a white (or pink) piece of paper. Tell him he better cough up the dough for a candlelight dinner or the relationship gets it.
*Make a heart-shaped ANYTHING and leave it at his job. No note. No explanation. No nothing. See how long it takes him to figure it out.
*Frame a gift that he's given you, or your marriage license, or her first love letter, or a photo of you both.
*And for you meat-and-potato guys out there who scoff at anything even remotely mushy, try shaving, combing your hair, washing your hands, putting on a clean shirt and simply saying, "You know, I DO love you.'' That should impress your wife of 26 years who thought you forgot how to say it.
*Personally, for starters, I'm going to give my wife, Cherie, a new pocket dictionary with pink-highlighted words that describe her best qualities, like "loving," "giving," "sexy," "goofy," and "fun."
(You can use this idea too as long as you don't tell her it's coming.)
Soul singer Natalie Cole, the 58-year-old daughter of legendary crooner Nat King Cole, echoed the feelings of many music fans Monday by saying drugged-out, screwed-up, singer-songstress Amy Winehouse shouldn't have hauled in so many Grammys at Sunday's ceremony.
"I don't think she should have won," Cole said in an interview on People magazine's website. "I think it sends a bad message to our young people who are trying to get into this business, the ones who are trying to do it right and really trying to keep themselves together."
Winehouse, for those out of the pop music loop, is currently receiving treatment at a rehabilitation clinic for drug abuse after breaking into the music scene with her first (prophetic) hit "Rehab."
On Sunday, she nabbed five - count 'em five - Grammy awards, including record of the year, song of the year and best new artist.
Cole, who helped announce Winehouse's record of the year victory at Sunday's ceremony in Los Angeles, later said, "We have to stop rewarding bad behavior. (Winehouse) needs to get herself together... this is about discipline and hard work, and you don't get to just do your drugs and go onstage and get rewarded."
So, do you agree with Cole?
I say, NO, NO, NO!
Come on, what are we rewarding here anyway, the music or the musician? The art or the artist?
The music, of course. The art, of course.
Don't get me wrong. The Grammys are a tragic and doomed barometer for ranking, judging, or rewarding music of any kind and from any era. Always have been. But since when have we let musicians' lifestyles get in the way of their music?
It obviously didn't seem to stop us from fawning, lusting and imitating hundreds of other musicians who came along before Winehouse, from Miles Davis and his heroin-junkie jazz buddies to Jimi Hendrix, or Jim Morrison, or Kurt Cobain, or Keith Richards, or... let's face it, I don't have enough space here to name them all, even on a blog.
Rock-n-roll, in particular, is about rebellion, rancor, and rehab, in that order. Anything less belongs in an elevator.
Winehouse's genre-blending music may offer the illusion of fresh and different, fooling the Grammy czars, but her cliche, textbook, rock-n-roll star lifestyle goes back decades. And rightfully so.
Long blog short, let's remember what Robert Zimmerman once said after he fled Hibbing, Minnesota and became a drugged-out, screwed-up musical icon: "Trust the art, not the artist." Amen, Bobby D.
I say let Winehouse win all those Grammys so she can later pawn them, like dozens of other drugged-out, screwed-up musicians before her, for a down payment on her premature burial.
A lot of reader comments I receive via cyberspace never make it to print or into this blog.
They're either too inflammatory for public consumption, too lengthy for space considerations in the newspaper, or just too wacky, off-base, or irrelevant for either forum. So they get deleted, forwarded to editors for other reporters to consider, or saved for future columns.
Still, I wanted to give you a quick peek at what I'm talking about, including some reader feedback to previous columns and suggestions for future columns, so here you go. Enjoy.
(This first one came after my follow-up column on the BMV, emissions and $80 license plates issue, when I joked how I couldn't be more controversial unless I wrote about, say, an atheist lesbian who had an abortion in Iraq.)
*Jerry, as an atheist myself, I must admit I am the one who knocked up the atheist lesbian. I, however, did it in the hatchback area of my 2006 Prius. Even though she was leaving for Iraq, she agreed to an abortion if she became pregnant. So, while I did (have sex with) the lesbian, I did not (have sex with) my fellow citizens by (messing) up our air.
*Jerry, something should be done about places flying American flags at half-mast. Most places don't do this correctly. I just wanted to get this off my chest. Thank you.
*Wow, you can certainly tell when it's a slow day in the media! I would have been embarrassed, to say the least, to publish those articles (on the cell phone ban in Gary). I guess you felt it was ok to break the law to prove a point, what point that was I don't know other than possibly to bash cops. I don't know what's more pathetic, the story or suggesting that the Gary cops should be writing cell phone tickets when there are felony crimes and murders occurring daily, perhaps even by the hour. Either way......wow what impressive reporting.
*We are loosing jobs. We cant afford MEDICAL!!!! And we are spending money we dont even have,ruining our own currency!!! we are loosing money.(not that its worth much,from our own govermental spending.) And Our Government just keep screwing their Own people!!! The ones they are suppose to be HELPING!! tell me the sense this makes!! Am I suppose to love THIS Country? Are you kidding me?
I pray this was never told to Congressman Ron paul.
He must feel like the worlds biggest Loser about now. Not for lack of trying,just lack of people hearing him on account of the media biased against his thoughts. I would rather be dead then...
(NOTE FROM JERRY: This guy kept going on and on and on, but I'll save you the six minutes to read it all.)
*Hey Jerry, call ME for tips on ghost payrolling in Lake County. I can't go on the record, but...
*I lost my pet, Chuggy the Chihuahua. Can you please post this online for me?
*Hi Jerry, I was wondering if you could look into something for me. I always read the dog classified ads and there is always a listing for all different breeds with the same phone numbers : NO CHECKS 574-772-3606, or NO
CHECKS 574-946-4992 and I was wondering if this is a puppy mill. Thank You
*I just read an article in the Gary Post, the article about the $735,000 government loan to clean up the Sheraton Hotel. This is outrageous. If the public was made aware all of the millions of dollars that has been obtained over the years, through federal loans and grants for this building, they would be shocked. "Restoring" this building is and will be a disaster financially and aesthetically. Can you help to inform our local tax payers?
*Good afternoon, I am concerned about the lack of enforcement of the current Valparaiso smoking ban. I have tried numerous times to inquire about the fact that there has not been any penalties issued in regards to blatant violations of the city ordinance. I have contacted the Valparaiso Police Department, Mayor Costas, the city administrator, and the building commissioner. The restaurants that have decided to apply for a bar exemption under § 97.13 of the Valparaiso smoking ordinance continuously violate the ordinance by allowing persons under the age of 18 to patronize their establishment. Martini's, Billy Jacks, and Brewskis all continue to violate the ordinance without any penalty. I do not understand the point of the ban if it is never enforced. Any assistance in garnering a response from the above mentioned public officials would be greatly appreciated.
(And this one came from a reader I recently met personally while pumping gas in my car)
*Hey Jerry, would you mention me sometime in your blog? My name is Frankie. I write poetry.
(Frankie, consider yourself mentioned.)
It's 4 p.m. in the Post-Tribune newsroom as deadline approaches for daily stories.
For the past few hours, the past few days, the past few years, the past few decades, it's the same routine here and, I'm sure, at every other newspaper.
Reporters, columnists, editors, photographers and other editorial staff are all doing pretty much the same thing: Asking questions.
That's what I do for a living. That's what they do for a living. That's what we do for a living. We ask questions.
As if I needed it, I even have a little yellow button on my desk reminding me what I do for a buck. It says, "Ask a bunch of questions."
On this day, I'm on the phone asking a Griffith man, who's black, about his claims of discrimination from a Griffith businesswoman, who's white. And via email I'm asking a Hammond woman about her brother's murder that was never solved. So far on this day I've asked about 25 questions to various sources, readers, and colleagues.
I know, I've been counting.
Behind me, one reporter is on the phone asking questions about an interstate closure, and another is asking questions about an alleged arsonist who was arrested.
A photographer is asking local tire repair shops if potholes have made their business any busier. And an editor is asking another reporter about changes in his story.
Questions, questions, questions. Like I said, that's what we do.
You'd think we'd have some answers by now - and some of us do, about all kinds of things - but each new day we come back into this office, open up our email, pick up our phones, and begin asking new questions.
And we keep asking them until we run out of time, not answers, sort of like Sisyphus, the Greek mythological character who the gods condemned to ceaselessly roll a rock to the top of a mountain, only for it to roll back down from its own weight. Again and again and again. Rock after rock, question after question.
In my younger days, I had all the answers. Or so I thought.
These days, all I have are questions. Thank God I get paid to ask them.
I'll bet dollars to donuts this guy makes you smile
So I limp in to the Family Express gas station after playing Thursday night tennis at The Courts of Northwest Indiana in Valparaiso.
My weekly ritual after playing 90 minutes of sweaty, no-Gatorade tennis is to quench my thirst by - what else? - eating chocolate donuts. And Family Express typically gets fresh ones delivered each evening, so here I am.
But before I can make my laser-beam beeline to the donuts case, I'm interrupted by an employee behind the counter.
"Hi," the 20-something guy says cheerfully. "How ya doin'?"
I look around. Is he talking to me? Is he actually greeting me personally? Unlike, say, at Blockbuster Video, where employees cough up a vague and indirect “hi” after some Pavlovian doorbell goes off. No, this guy, who I immediately nicknamed “Mr. Friendly” in my head, greets other customers behind me in the same upbeat manner. "How ya' doin?" "Hello." "Welcome."
Amazing, I think to myself while choosing the absolutely largest possible chocolate donuts in the case.
In the meantime, Mr. Friendly chats it up with some guy with a pony tail. They seem like old friends. Until, that is, the guy wants to buy some smokes, I think, and Mr. Friendly asks for his I.D.
"I've gotta ask," he explains, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't want to get fired or anything."
So he asks, and the pony-tail guy shows his ID.
But then, just as I ponder splurging for three donuts instead of two, Mr. Friendly utters the sweetest words to my ears.
"Have you read the newspaper today?" he asks the pony-tail guy and some young woman at the counter.
(Yes, this is one of my favorite questions in the history of questions, for purely selfish reasons, of course.)
"Huh?" the pony-tail guy and young woman reply.
"Yeah, the owner of Family Express, well, his house burned in a fire. Too bad huh?"
(A little background info: Family Express owner Gus Olympidis' $2 million Valparaiso-area home was reduced to ashes a day earlier in a fire.)
The pony-tail guy and young woman don't say much.
"So," Mr. Friendly jokes, "I guess everything here will cost more tomorrow."
"Nah," he laughs to himself, "just kidding."
Pony-tail guy and young woman stand unfazed, and soon head for the door.
But Mr. Friendly now has my undivided attention as I gently place my two (not three) donuts into a bag and head to the cash register.
"You know," Mr. Friendly tells me, "our donuts are made fresh daily."
He then goes on to tell me how the donuts are made, and where, and how often they're delivered, and how new employees take a tour of the bakery while getting a free sample. I’m just listening. It’s what I do best.
"I had a blueberry muffin," Mr. Friendly tells me. "It was the BEST muffin I ever had. Blueberry juice actually came out when I bit into it. It was unbelievable. You gotta try one next time you're here."
OK, I tell him, I will.
Mr. Friendly continues, "I asked the lady at the bakery if I can have a second one, but she said no. I said, come on, I'm fat. I need two."
He didn't get that second muffin, he told me. But he wasn't done chatting with me. He even tried getting to me to buy an entire box of donuts instead of just two.
"If I buy six," I explained, "I'll eat six."
That's OK, he says, noticing I'm wearing gym shorts.
"You just came from playing tennis at The Courts, right?"
"Yeah," I reply, impressed by his powers of deduction.
"Well then just play a few more games and you can buy more donuts to eat. It's as simple as that."
Well, I tell him, that's been my "outrun the donuts" philosophy for three decades but it's starting to backfire on me. I'm playing less sports and eating more sweets, I tell him. And it's starting to show.
"That's OK," he says with a smile. "Look at me, I'm happy."
OK, I tell him, I'll consider it. And I head for the door.
"Take care," Mr. Friendly tells me. "Have a great night."
I get back in my car, take a bite of Donut Number One, and think to myself: "This guy is fantastic. This guy treats his workplace like he owns it. This guy is a rarity these days."
And then I wonder to myself if Mr. Family Express knows how good this employee is? Probably not, I figure.
I'm guessing Mr. Friendly isn't making a whole lot of money, but it sure doesn't show in his work ethic.
Still, as a former small business owner (23 years in the food industry before I started writing for a buck), I would have paid this guy extra for his type of service with a genuine smile and a welcoming joke.
Oh sure I see business owners and managers who bust their butt to accommodate customers – and I just happened to see two of them this past week: Robert Briggs, the owner of La Dolce Vita Italian Restaurant in Miller, who went above and beyond to make sure our dinner party was happy; and Sanh Tran, the manager at Maki of Japan inside the food court at Westfield Southlake Mall in Hobart, who is a tireless worker seven days a week.
But you simply don't see too many employees, especially young ones, who treat their workplace as, well, as if they own the joint. Yet Mr. Friendly sure seems to.
Still, I'll bet dollars to, um, donuts that he's not getting properly rewarded for his efforts, either with a bump in pay or a promotion of some kind.
And that, I've learned first hand, is a surefire way to turn Mr. Friendly into just another Mr. Forgettable.
Region motorists exhaust disgust, dismay over emissions column
I expected it. I deserved it. I got it.
After my Sunday column ran on the BMV's decision to tighten a legal loophole allowing thousands of Lake and Porter county motorists to detour around strict emission mandates and the costly repairs often needed to comply to state law - initially sparked by my Jan. 7 column - I knew I would hear about it from angry readers. And I did.
The first phone call came in at 7 a.m. on Sunday.
"You're a moron, Jerry, for bringing this issue to the attention of readers, and to the state."
Others followed.
"Thanks a lot, Jerry," one man sarcastically hissed. "I'm a father of five who makes $35,000 a year, and I can't afford to buy a new vehicle if mine won't pass emissions. So thanks a lot."
Sunday's column, by the way,
found online at http://www.post-trib.com/news/davich/index.html
explained how the Indiana BMV’s "solution" to tightening the loophole is to begin using the gross vehicle weight rating from a Vehicle Information Number, or VIN - which determines the requirement for emission testing - rather than simply taking the word of motorists.
“Once complete... the subjective judgment about vehicle weight formerly made by the customer in many instances will be eliminated,” a BMV spokeswoman said.
This solution, readers told me Sunday, will only "squeeze the little guy" even more in Lake and Porter counties.
"Mr. Davich,
Who is going to make up the nearly $700,000 the state won't be getting for higher weight truck registrations? Most locals don't drive the miles in a week that travelers add up crossing east to west in Lake Cnty or from south to north in one trip.
"What happened to the inspections of people living in other counties, working in Lake and Porter were supposed to have to get? Go after them, now!!!!!!
"Next, why don't you go after the Indiana residents still using Illinois tags? I am sure they drive from Illinois to the South Shore Parking lots just to ride the train back to Chicago for their jobs. Check out plates of cars dropping off kids at schools in Lake Cnty."
"Our pickup truck is exempt being a diesel. That will still require a trip to the emission site just to get the exempt certificate. A totally unnecessary trip until your article."
And...
"No wonder there is so much unrest with the common citizen. A person goes along, minding their own business, staying out of trouble and paying their taxes then someone is always out there ready to STEP on them. What is a deduction to one person is a loop hole to another."
And...
"Jerry, in my mind the whole emissions testing program is a sham and a farce. The GVW is a way around the requirements for sure. The other way and likely as widespread is the practice of living in Lake/Porter then registering the vehicles in Jasper/Newton or other counties to avoid the testing requirement.
An example: An acquaintance has 3 vehicles. A pickup registered at 11 000 LBS in Porter Co, A newer auto registered in Porter Co. An older auto registered in Jasper Co. because it won't pass the emission test. In the event of registration requirements changing all 3 vehicles will simply be registered in another non testing county.
I believe this happens at least as often as the over GVW registration of pickups. It will only increase with a change in the process. I know of the same scenario is several other cases."
And...
"I still don't understand why only in Lake and Porter county, etc.
Everyone should have to go by the same rules. Global warming only occurs in these counties???????"
So, will more reader feedback continue here in the blogosphere?
I don't know. But if it does, I'll post it.
