Once upon a time, we had slavery. It was an excellent business strategy because it drastically reduced labor costs, thereby increasing profits.

Once upon a time, women could not vote. Another excellent idea as they could then focus their energies on making babies and putting a good hot meal in front of their families.

Once upon a time, the guaranty that a person could have a firearm was equally logical. Muskets had to be at the ready for hunting, for chasing away them varmints, for protection if the government turned tyrannical, and, yes, for shooing away those who objected to a person pushing west for more land.

Fast forward.

Having decided that slavery was, you know, on the sleazy side of human interaction, we chucked it; unfortunately, racism has not been so easy to eradicate – but that’s for another essay.

After considerable bitching and moaning, men decided to let women vote. Disconcertingly, they are now moving ahead in all fields, even business. Not to worry, though, control is still male.

In some ways, the most undiluted progress has been with firearms. Very few individuals hunt to put food on the table, the varmint problem is not a real issue to most, and the land situation is a defensive, not offensive situation. Yet we can pick up an AR-15 and blow an entire classroom away before this sentence is finished.

**

Once upon a time, men and women collaborated to produce multiple babies. The infant death rate made this mandatory if a family was to have the critical mass needed to get work done. It also meant that a concept like the mental health of children had no relevance.

Once upon a time, the issue of which drugs were legal, which passed the standards of Western medicine, which represented the beliefs of underdeveloped countries – all was crystal clear.

Once upon a time, you knew your neighbors, even when geographically distant because of the large farms involved. You might get ticked off if a lazy mule wandered onto your property, but you were more likely to demonstrate your displeasure by kicking its ass than by scurrying to get your musket.

Fast forward.

Fertility rates are basically at replacement levels, we are acutely aware of how mental health is a serious issue at all age levels, it is difficult to draw the line between legal and illegal drugs, and farms have been sold to giant agri-businesses. But I can still get my AR-15 because of its direct lineage to that trusty musket owned by our forefathers. (Wait, are we actually getting prepared for a tyrannical government … yipes, that’s another essay idea … and a truly scary thought!)

**

Neighbors — what/who are they? I know somebody lives next door and I wave when its unavoidable, but that’s it. When I trot out my AR-15 and eliminate a bunch of lives, I know my neighbors can be counted upon to tell the world, “I didn’t really know him.”

Community leaders will be on point with the truism, “we are shocked that this massacre could happen in our town of good law-abiding, hard-working people.”

Politicians will run to the nearest camera and, from opposite points on the political spectrum, proclaim “we must pass legislation,” and “the availability of an AR-15 has nothing to do with this tragedy.” Non-profit foundations and public-minded companies and citizens alike will provide money, food, and gift cards to the families affected.

Eventually, after the inevitable gun reform discussion, the cry will go up in the political arena, “we tried, but………….” On the other hand, funds will be available for more security devices and trained personnel at schools. And we will encourage the formation of committees – police and mental health professionals – who will meet to assess when a red flag is to be waved.

**

Isn’t change wonderful!

 

As a parent grieves over the loss of a child, she can console herself by thinking about all the changes that have taken place in her life and in society since the parent’s birth. Too bad that their child did not live long enough to see any change from our reverence for that musket … and the AR-15.