Hope Along the Hudson

Every so often, no matter the weather, I see two Army helicopters heading north along the Hudson. On clear days and grey, I hear them before I see them, two olive drab machines, heavy duty choppers a few hundred feet over the water. They sound different than the other choppers, the lightweight TV jobs and airport shuttles, more basso inferno, a reminder that we, here in Gotham, are behind another wall, not the first wall built by the Dutch, but the response to the event that precipitated two wars and an accelerated national hubris.

Yet another campus shooting, at this point it doesn’t matter which one because we are mired in a stream of faceless horror, has me looking out the window at the calm water on a beautiful fall morning. Why don’t those shootings happen here? Because this is fucking New York City, that’s why.

Say what you will about the violence that’s been part of our lifestyle, from revolution to riots to planes flying into buildings. Yes, there will always be random acts of lunacy, idiots parking vans with explosives, senior citizens who shouldn’t be behind the wheel plowing into crowds of pedestrians, but walk into a Gotham building with an assault rifle? Technically, it could happen, but it’s not very likely. This map of mass shootings shows the closest happened on the Long Island Railroad, outside the city proper.

Don’t get me wrong. Bad things will continue to happen everywhere, even in the voting booth next year. More stringent gun control will be an issue, as it should be. There is no question that our society will continue its descent without it. As long as the NRA exerts its influence, we will be in thrall to its madness. Saner forces will eventually prevail, and that is why I have hope.