It’s Time to Ban Semiautomatic Weapons

Originally published on Athens Patch on Dec. 17, 2012.

Like all parents of young children, I was shaken by the tragedy in Connecticut, especially as the events unfolded while my kids were at their own elementary school.

I cannot imagine the pain the parents of the victims must be feeling, and hope the outpouring of support from the nation lets them know they are not alone in their mourning.

Since the tragedy, much has been written and said trying to make sense of the events of Dec. 14, and the seemingly increasing senseless violence in our country. Over the past six years, the United States has seen some of its worst mass murders in history:

•April 16, 2007 – Virginia Tech University in Blacksburg, Va., 32 killed;

•Dec. 5, 2007 – Westroads Mall, Omaha, Neb., 8 killed;

•Feb. 14, 2008 – Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, Ill., 5 killed;

•April 3, 2009 – American Civic Association in Binghamton, NY, 13 killed;

•Nov. 5, 2009 – Fort Hood, Texas, 13 killed;

•Aug. 3, 2010 – Harford Beer Distributor in Manchester, Conn., 8 killed;

•Jan. 8, 2011 – Rep. Gabriel Giffords appearance in Tuscon, Ariz., 6 killed;

•July 20, 2012 – Movie Theater in Aurora, Colo., 12 killed;

•Aug. 5, 2012 – Sikh Temple in Oak Creek, Wis., 6 killed;

•Dec. 14, 2012 – Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Conn., 26 killed.

Each event featured one sole assailant, and these murderers of the 129 victims have one thing in common — they all used legally purchased semiautomatic weapons to conduct their killing sprees. In nine of the 10 cases, the semiautomatic guns were purchased by the perpetrator himself (the Westroads Mall shooter stole the gun from his stepfather). Assault weapons serve one main purpose — to kill multitudes in a short amount of time. It’s how 10 killers single-handedly murdered 129 people in the aforementioned tragedies.

In 1994, with overwhelming bipartisan support, the federal government passed an assault weapons ban. The ban expired in 2004. During the 10 years the law was in place, there were eight mass shootings resulting in 51 deaths. According to the Citizens Crime Commission of New York City, six of the eight massacres involved semiautomatic weapons purchased legally before the assault weapons ban took effect in 1994. The two mass shootings featuring illegally acquired weapons — Columbine in 1999 and Edgewater Technology in 2000 — resulted in 20 combined deaths.

Doing the math, over the past 18 years, mass shootings involving legally purchased assault weapons resulted in 160 innocent deaths, while mass shootings involving illegally purchased assault weapons resulted in 20 deaths.

Obviously, assault weapons and the ease of purchasing them is not the sole reason 160 people have lost their lives. However, one cannot deny the link between the spike in mass killings and the expiration of the assault weapons ban.

For the 20 children shot multiple times in a matter of minutes last Friday; for the 129 murdered over the past eight years by legally purchased semiautomatic weapons; and to reduce a legitimate threat to safety of all Americans, the government needs to restore a ban on semiautomatic weapons.

My 3 Sons: The Trampoline

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Jaydon and Jackson cooling off on “sprinkler trampoline.”

Originally published on Athens Patch on Dec. 12, 2012.

My one piece of advice to a family with young boys: buy a big trampoline.

Years ago my wife and I were examining ways to provide more outdoor entertainment for our sons. Of course, they have their bikes, scooters and skateboards, but we wanted something that could occupy them for significant chunks of time while also keeping them contained within our backyard.

We explored the options. A pool was too costly and took too much effort to maintain. A sandbox was too messy, and since I typically handle vacuuming and mopping duties, I quickly eliminated that proposal. A mini-playground was a nice idea — but then I remembered that I lack handyman skills. I envisioned our kids flinging off the swing as the base of the playground becomes loose because daddy forgot to tighten a nut, or a bolt, or whichever one it is you tighten. So we settled on a trampoline — a big one — with “easy to assemble” printed on the box. And after a two-week battle with the 200 parts that came with it, the trampoline was completed.

It was an instant hit with our oldest boys, 8-year-old Jaydon and 4-year-old Jackson, and in turn the best thing to happen to their parents.

The trampoline has become our “go-to” option when our two oldest kids are too revved up around the house. Running around too much in the living room while mom and dad are trying to relax? Go jump on the trampoline. Wrestling each other while baby is trying to get in on the act? Go wrestle on the trampoline. Nerf gun bullets flying in the kitchen while we’re cooking dinner? Go shoot each other on the trampoline. Throwing balls at each other in the hallway? Go play dodgeball on the trampoline. The trampoline has become an outdoor pseudo “time out” that everyone enjoys: mom and dad get peace in the house while the boys still get to be rowdy.

The trampoline is also the perfect year-round backyard accessory. During the hot summer months we put a sprinkler under the trampoline. When it’s raining (as long as it’s not lightning), it’s a nice way for our sons to get some outdoor time without getting muddy. I’m hoping for some snow this winter, so we could witness our first trampoline snowball fight.

Baby Matthew has even started to partake in the trampoline fun. Although we don’t let him join his brothers’ craziness just yet, he enjoys his solo time chasing a ball and bouncing around.

Even if they don’t admit it, most parents at some point have used the TV as an indoor “babysitter.” We have discovered that its perfect outdoor counterpart is the trampoline.

My 3 Sons: The White Sox Game

Originally published on athens.patch.com on Sept. 29, 2012.

Jaydon enjoys a $3 cotton candy at his first White Sox game.on Sept. 28, 2012.

Growing up just 20 minutes from old Comiskey Park, I grew up loving the White Sox. I’ll never forget my first game. It was June 20, 1985 — I still have the ticket stub. My dad and grandpa Chuck took me to the old ballpark with my Cub Scout troop, and despite my incessant cheering for my childhood heroes Carlton Fisk, Harold Baines and Ron Kittle, the Sox were pounded 12-1 by the Oakland Athletics (and to this day, I still hate the A’s). Despite the setback, I remember watching the entire game, clinging on to every pitch.

It was with much anticipation that I took Jaydon took his first White Sox game 27 years later. It was a typically hot Chicago August evening as we watched the Sox battle the Los Angeles Angels. Although growing up 15 hours from U.S. Cellular Field, Jaydon has grown up a White Sox fan, thanks in part to former University of Georgia baseball star Gordon Beckham playing second base for the Sox. We walked to our seats in the hopes of seeing his favorite players — Beckham, home run powerhouse Adam Dunn and future Hall of Famer Paul Konerko — lead the Sox to victory. I was really hoping his first Sox experience would be much better than mine, so didn’t mind dropping $150 to get some good seats.

It was an outstanding game — several lead changes, home runs and extra innings — and we missed most of it. We got there well before the first pitch, and even got to to see the Sox staked to an early 4-1 lead. Then Jaydon wanted some food. In talking up the game experience to him I mentioned the unique and delicious food options at The Cell, so I obliged. We trek 15 rows up to the concourse and get a nachos with cheese and salsa, two Chicago-style “Comiskey” dogs and two “souvenir Cokes,” which is Coke but tastes better because it’s in a special cup. Jaydon thought that was a bargain. Down $30, I disagreed. Only one inning missed. Not bad.

We get back to our seats in the second inning and the lead has narrowed to 4-3. Not sure how that happened. After an uneventful half inning for the White Sox and Jaydon already through with his “souvenir Coke” the inevitable happens.

“Dad, I have to use the bathroom,” he says.

Knowing not to test a 9-year-old bladder, I cram the rest of my hot dog, his hot dog and the rest of our nachos in my mouth, excuse ourselves from the five people separating us from the aisle and make the 15-row trip back to the concourse. After the restroom trip, Jay reminds me that his mom said we should grab him a Sox cap while at the park. So we walk around the concourse to find the “official” gift shop, of course stopping at every little souvenir stand so he can determine he doesn’t like any of the caps. We arrive at the gift shop, seemingly miles from our seat, and Jay has a field deal browsing wall-to-wall White Sox apparel and gifts. After much consideration, he settles on a cap, but then wants to look at the toys. An avid Lego fan, he’s enthralled by the selection of Lego White Sox players. He wanted the whole team. I talked him down to one — Gordon Beckham, of course. Out another $40, we take the 15-minute walk back to our seats. It’s already the fifth inning and the Sox are now down 5-4.

I tell Jaydon we are not going to leave our seats for awhile, and he agrees. We catch an uneventful fifth inning and see the Angels tack on another run in the top of the sixth. Then nature calls again.

“Dad, I’m really sorry, but I have to go to the bathroom,” he says.

I glance at the guy next to me and I sense he feels my frustration. He gets the rest of his group to stand up so we can make our way to the aisle and the 15-row trip to the concourse, again.

After the restroom, Jay reminds me about this fun place for kids at Sox park that I told him about a long time ago. It’s called “FUNdamentals,” an attraction where kids can practice their baseball skills with White Sox “coaches.” I mentioned this to him months ago, but intentionally neglected to him about it this trip because I bought good tickets and wanted to watch the game. I knew FUNdamentals closes at the seventh inning so we walked around the ballpark to the attraction.

Jaydon had a blast and didn’t mind the long waits to hit, pitch, run  and field. Meanwhile, the White Sox hit a couple blasts to tie the game at 6. After 30 minutes of FUN, the attraction closes and we take the long walk back to our seats, of course stopping to pick up some frozen lemonade and cotton candy (another $15 gone). It’s the ninth inning, and I’m determined not to miss another pitch.

The game goes into extra innings and the Sox shut down the Angels in the top of the tenth. At the bottom of the inning, with one out and one on, Alex Rios slams a home run to center field, giving the White Sox an 8-6 win.

In more than a hundred professional baseball games attended, I’ve never witnessed a walk-off home run, and my son gets the chance in his very first ballgame. And underneath his new Sox cap, gripping his Gordon Beckham lego and souvenir cup, Jaydon had a big grin on his cotton candy-covered face. It made the hole in my wallet and the worn rubber on my shoes all worth it.

It’s the students, stupid.

Originally published on athens.patch.com on Aug. 18, 2012.

Every once in awhile, people involved in higher education have to be reminded exactly why they’re here. It’s easy to get consumed by necessary academic elements like research, budgets, policies and administration. But at the center of every academic institution are students.

Last week’s series of events at The Red & Black, the independent student newspaper of the University of Georgia, could’ve been completely avoided if the students were kept in the center. However, in working to maintain a quality newspaper while making the money necessary to keep the nonprofit publication afloat, the newspaper’s board of directors — comprised mainly of Red & Black veterans from decades past — strayed away from the core of its institution.

Significant decisions were made about the student newspaper’s staff, its editorial philosophy and the direction of the product without input from the students. When the student editors returned from their summer break, they found a very different newspaper from the one that they were hired last semester to run.

It’s hard to believe that the powers-that-be at The Red & Black didn’t expect a negative reaction from the students. They likely thought most would be mad, and some would even quit, but in the end they would be left with a core group of competent students who would ultimately succumb to the changes.

What they underestimated is the courage of editor-in-chief Polina Marinova, managing editor Julia Carpenter, news editor Adina Solomon, variety editor Tiffany Stevens, sports editor Nicolas Fouriezos, multimedia editor Lindsey Cook, photo editor Cory Schmelter and chief photographer Cody Schmelter. These eight students would stand up for their principles, unite for their cause and launch their own product. And they certainly didn’t anticipate the nearly unanimous support the students would receive after walking out on The Red & Black.

Calling themselves “The Red & Dead” and launching their own website, Twitter feed and Facebook page, within hours the renegade editors found themselves with thousands of supporters from the campus community, alumni and the journalism field itself. But outside of a few official statements, they displayed incredible maturity, mostly keeping quiet in the hopes of finding a compromise with The Red & Black.

Less than 24 hours after the walkout, the students were invited to meet with newspaper administrators to discuss the situation. It appeared the administrators at The Red & Black were finally willing to admit their mistake and once again put students at the center of their publication. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. After the board refused to budge, the editors held firm and walked out, again. But this time, they went public with their story with one simple tweet: “We are taking all requests for interviews …” While The Red & Black board continued to isolate the student editors, hours later journalism outlets like The New York Times, The Washington Post, Fox News and The Huffington Post were putting them at the center of the story.

The support became overwhelming, and the stats prove it. They gained more than 4,500 Twitter followers in just two days (compared to the nearly 15,000 followers The Red & Black amassed over several years). The “likes” on their Facebook page matched the number of “likes” on the Red & Black’s page. And they started publishing original news and feature stories on their website, which surpassed more than 100,000 hits.

Alumni offered to help finance a new campus newspaper. Advertisers said they would pull ads from The Red & Black. Journalism professors said they would encourage students to write for this new forum. No longer could the students be put off to the side. Either The Red & Black put these students back in control of their paper, or they compete against them for readers and advertisers. And if the first two days of competition offered any foresight, the century-old newspaper didn’t stand a chance.

In a Friday meeting, with more than 100 supporters cramming the lobby and entrance of The Red & Black, the board gave the students everything they wanted. With the overwhelming public support, the editors would’ve likely had any demand met. But they held firm, as they did all along. All they wanted was editorial control, student representation on the Red & Black board and the person responsible for the chaos gone. Essentially, they wanted to wrestle back control of their student newspaper. And the board succumbed, finally putting students back at the center of the paper, as they should’ve been all along.

My 3 Sons: Hide (the remote and watch daddy) Go Seek

Originally published on athens.patch.com on July 2, 2012.Image

Being a parent has given me a renewed perspective about material possessions. Things I used to treasure are now secondary to the happiness of my three sons. But baby Matthew is challenging that perspective when it comes to the single most important item to me in the house: the master remote control.

Like most families, our entertainment system comprises of multiple remotes — five to be exact — but of course it’s the one we need most that he has mistaken for his favorite toy.  Leave it anywhere in his reach, and it’s button-pushing time. He has no respect for the importance of what’s on TV.

For instance, I’m watching a rare, nationally televised game of my beloved White Sox. It’s late in the game, Sox are down by one with one man on base, my favorite player Paul Konerko steps up to the plate, swings and smashes the ball deep and … Spongebob is making Krabby Patties. Matthew looks at me with a grin, holding the remote, and runs to the kitchen laughing. How does an 18-month-old even know how to do that?

He knows the importance of the remote to daddy. Whenever I’m watching TV, he seeks out the remote. He doesn’t do this when his mom or brothers are watching TV, only me. And he isn’t fooled when I try to give him a different remote, he wants to control the master remote.

If I place it out of his reach or give him a stern, “No, no,” he transforms to his “adorable puppy dog” routine as he buries his face in my lap, whimpers and gently cries. This puts me in an awkward position — it’s not like he’s trying to touch a hot stove or run across the street — so I acquiesce and give him the remote so he can change channels, reprogram our settings or order a movie (all of which he’s done).

The worst is when he hides the remote. Somehow this always happens right before I want to watch something. His favorite hiding places include his toy box, under the couch, in the one unlocked kitchen cabinet, the bathroom, in one of his toy houses, under our telephone stand, in the fireplace and in the VCR.

Interrogating him is useless because he can’t talk — every answer is his favorite word, “Duh!” — which only makes me feel more stupid. Guiding him to show me where he put it only leads me on a wild goose chase, quite literally, as he misinterprets my frustration as playfulness and thinks I’m chasing him. And displaying any level of anger brings out “adorable puppy dog,” which makes me feel like a heel.

Eventually the remote will show up. In the meantime, I think I’ll just read a book.