Greece, NY
10:21 AM
I woke up today to the sound of repeated gunshots. This has been the case for the past few weeks. It’s a weird thing, lying in bed preparing for the day and hearing the rat-a-tat-tat.
Lucky for me, I am not in Iraq or Afghanistan or any of the countries where there is constant fighting. I am not in the depressed part of the cities of our country where Americans kill Americans. Where I am currently living is three miles from a police station. And they do their practice range shooting there.
My middle class suburban upbringing was not mixed with guns and violence. Growing up, my friends and I thought we were hard because the sounds of Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg pulsated through our cars and walkmans. But I have not experienced waking up to the sound of gunshots and wondering if they might hit me or my house.
And I must say, that would suck. Imagine being a family in Iraq, a family who we will deem as peaceful with no bones to pick with the U.S. or the different factions in Iraq. Imagine waking up each day with the wonder if US troops or insurgents might storm your house. Or if you were grocery shopping with the fear that the person next to you might have a bomb strapped to them. Or imagine living in the projects and always being in fear of a drive by shooting.
All of those things would be incredibly hard. I’ve been lucky. A lot of us have. But the people in those situations don’t quit or give up. They still do what they can to persevere. No matter how hard things might be, there are other people who have it much worse. And those people share a lot of the same wants and needs all of us have. Imagine trying to provide for your family in the middle of a war zone. Or to teach your kids your values.
It’s all pretty strange. How did I get here, in this family, in this house? How come I wasn’t born to a family in Iraq? Or Somalia? Or the projects? There aren’t answers to those questions. I am where I am, trying to get the most out of who I am and what I’ve been blessed with.