So sad, so unbelievable

I wasn't going to write about this right away, was going to wait a few days at least, but I think I might as well write now. It isn't going to be anything brilliant. I just want to remember how this feels.

We went to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science on Monday afternoon. I'd gotten us tickets to the Stonehenge exhibition, which I was very interested to see. We arrived a little late for our 1:40 museum entrance time, around 1:50, but they aren't that fussy about letting you in if you're late. The kids always want to eat first, so we went to the cafe and had various sandwiches and snacks. I had a little container of fruit, a carton of milk, and half of Rocket Boy's grilled cheese sandwich. It was there that Rocket Boy realized he had forgotten his wallet, which made me really cross -- I had reminded him to bring his phone, his mask -- it never occurred to me I also had to mention his wallet. But after being cross for a few minutes, I relaxed -- I had my wallet, and we only needed one. And it's not like I don't forget things constantly these days.

Our Stonehenge tickets were for 2:40, so we headed up to the third floor after eating. The kids were seriously underwhelmed by the exhibit -- they'd never heard of Stonehenge before and didn't understand how interesting the new findings are. I didn't prepare them properly. After maybe 15 minutes they were ready to leave, and they did leave by 3:30 or so, off to their favorite Health exhibit. Rocket Boy and I stayed with Stonehenge until nearly 4:30, close to closing time -- annoying the kids no end. On our way out I looked in the gift shop as always, and was amused by a t-shirt with a picture of the moon and the caption, supposedly the moon speaking, "No one ever visits anymore." Another t-shirt read:

You matter!
unless you multiply yourself by the speed of light, then
You energy!

I was going to tell Rocket Boy about the funny t-shirts, but when we got to the car, I happened to check my phone. "Oh, no, there was a shooting at the Table Mesa King Soopers!" We weren't too upset at first, because at first they didn't mention fatalities. I kept checking my phone as we drove to Great Scott's diner for dinner, arguing with the twins who claimed they just wanted to go home. I checked it some more at Great Scott's, but the whole thing still seemed unreal. It might have been while we were driving home that I learned a police officer had been shot. I think it was later, on TV, that I heard six people were dead.

Rocket Boy wanted to drive by King Soopers on our way home. "Is there anything you need at the store?" he asked. "Yes," I admitted, "I was going to shop today if we hadn't gone to the museum. But they aren't going to let anyone in there -- there was a mass shooting." He still thought he could drive by, but as we drove down Table Mesa toward Broadway, we realized the street was lined with police vehicles. We saw people dressed in SWAT team outfits walking down the street. And then, just before we had to turn onto Broadway because everything else was blocked, we saw the endless stream of police vehicles on the other side of Broadway, all with their lights blinking, like some gruesome Christmas display. "Take a picture!" Rocket Boy urged me, but it was too late, and I didn't really want to anyway. The enormity of the thing was hitting me. I did not need a photo. Later, of course, we saw a version of that scene on TV, over and over again.

We went home, went inside, the kids ran for their stupid devices. I grabbed the Roku stick and turned on the TV to Locast, which gives you local channels if you don't have another way of getting them. I found a news broadcast, on Channel 7 I think it was, and sat down to watch.

I watched until that broadcast went off, and then later watched a later one. Rocket Boy eventually joined me. I can't remember when we learned ten people were dead. My phone won't let me do much on it, so I wasn't picking up much from social media, but my neighbors were chattering about the police officer who was killed, the only name released that night. Officer Talley -- he worked in our neighborhood, and several of the neighbors had worked with him on different things. Then his rescue of 12 ducklings from a drainage ditch was brought up. I remember that article! It was from June 2013, just a few weeks after we moved back to Boulder from Ridgecrest.

All through this, I kept thinking, all these people across the nation are learning the silly name of our grocery store. I remember when I first visited Boulder and I asked my friend Jeff what grocery store he patronized. He told me and I laughed. It is such a stupid name, and especially the way they spell "Soopers." Rocket Boy, who has lived here forever, calls it "King's," which was its old name before I think it merged with some other grocery store and became King Soopers. I might have that wrong. Don't quote me. But anyway, in the pictures on TV here we have beautiful -- stunning -- Boulder, with the Flatirons covered with snow, and then the grocery store, with its name on it -- King Soopers. Of course, there are 100 King Soopers stores in Colorado and everyone shops there -- except people who only go to Whole Foods or whatever -- so to us, it's just what it is. 

Imagine having your life end in a King Soopers. Like dying in a Piggly Wiggly, the only grocery store name I know of that is sillier.

Watching all that TV with my old glasses on gave me a splitting headache, so I was glad to take them off and go to sleep. And I slept reasonably well. But this morning I woke up feeling sick to my stomach, which I thought was due to the tragedy. I got up and turned on the TV again, because there was supposed to be a morning press conference. I fed the cats, made tea, all the time feeling worse. Wearing my glasses was painful, but I made it through the press conference. And then suddenly I realized I just wasn't OK. I fled to the bathroom and threw up for a while. Maybe half an hour later I did it again. And then I cancelled my 9:45 appointment to pick up my new glasses and went back to bed for the rest of the day, or most of it.

I still don't know whether I'm sick, or just sick at heart. I'm kind of in a daze about the shooting. Whenever there's a shooting elsewhere, I mostly want to know about the shooter -- what motivated him to do this awful thing. This time I'm not so interested. He's 21, unattractive, described as having a hot temper and as being mentally ill. He was born in Syria. He looked so pathetic and wormy as the officers led him away. He seems like every other shooter. I read that he had once posted on his Facebook page that he needed a girlfriend. Yeah, I'll bet. Maybe it'll turn out to be a Muslim thing, but he strikes me as the kind of guy who would do this because some Boulder girl wouldn't date him. So in that sense it might be a little like the Atlanta shootings -- a week ago. But who knows the real reason. Maybe he's a Trumper and wanted to kill some liberals. It doesn't matter. It's all the same. Men being morons.

This time my focus has been on the victims -- first, because I realized I might know some of them. I'm pretty sure now that's not true. Some of the faces look familiar, so maybe I've seen them around town -- or around King Soopers. But not anyone I've ever spoken to (I think). But then I saw the picture of Teri Leiker. The bagger! She's bagged my groceries a hundred times, easily, probably two or three hundred. I didn't especially like her, but she was a KS institution. I read a memory by someone else who said she always felt comforted when she saw Teri working. I kind of understand that. I tend to choose my checkout line according to the clerk -- I have my favorites and my non-favorites. But I also tended to gravitate toward lines that Teri was doing the bagging in, because she was very dependable, absolutely devoted to her job. Ever since I saw her picture I've been trying to imagine her being shot down by the gunman. My mind won't really go there. It's too horrific. It's one of the things I can't think about yet.

And then the redhead. The kid, the 20-year-old -- Denny. Him I didn't know so well, but I've seen him, checked out under him a few times. A cutie. I've always been a sucker for redheads. Twenty years old! The young manager, Nikki, who was 25, doesn't look familiar to me, but I must have seen her, probably many times. You have to understand, I go to King Soopers constantly. Less often during the pandemic, but still. I think it's fair to estimate that I've been there twice a week, every week (because sometimes I went three or four or five times a week), since we moved back to Boulder almost 8 years ago. In other words, over 800 times.

And now I can't go there, because it's a crime scene. A scene of mass murder. Where some little worm of a person with a gun shot Teri the bagger. I simply cannot take this in.

I've stopped throwing up, but I have a sore throat and am very tired. I ate some saltines and applesauce for dinner, my first food of the day. I think I'm going to try to get a covid test tomorrow -- it'll probably be negative, but I can tell the eyecare place that when I make a new appointment. I'm thinking I'm going to let Rocket Boy take the twins on the little trip we'd planned, without me. I don't think I have it in me to go on a vacation. For one thing, I'm almost out of cat food, one can left. I'll have to go to the King Soopers on Arapahoe to get more, tomorrow. I don't want to go there. Maybe I could go to Safeway instead.

I think even leaving the house is going to be hard. But ten people don't get to leave their houses anymore, because they are dead, so I will be brave. I can always go back to bed when I come home.