The 10 year anniversary of the Virginia Tech massacre
Apr 16, 2017 8:14:35 GMT -5
Denver Broncos (Steve), Cleveland Browns (Kevin), and 2 more like this
Post by Cincinnati Bengals (Chris) on Apr 16, 2017 8:14:35 GMT -5
I know we usually don't talk about things like this, but I felt that today was an acceptable and appropriate time to make an exception to that. I feel uniquely positioned to talk about this, because I was born and raised about an hour and a half from the Virginia Tech campus, and spent my entire adolescent life wanting to attend the university. I saw my first college basketball game there in Cassell Coliseum 20 years ago. I saw Michael Vick weave back-and-forth between defenders and make the impossible seem possible every home Saturday for two years in the house that Frank built next door, Lane Stadium. But then I saw members of SWAT rappelling down the concrete arches of Cassell Coliseum. I saw a stadium full of teary-eyed Hokies mourning the loss of their classmates and professors, and it has never been the same.
I was not a student at the time, as ultimately I went to a different school for my undergraduate degree as we now know, but I was still a Hokie. I would run a Virginia Tech blog for SB Nation for 5 years and actually consummate the dream and attend Virginia Tech in later years. And on that day, and on every April 16th since, you all are Hokies as well. So I wanted to thank you all for the continuing outpouring of support and kind words. The international sense of community that has been created and fostered for Hokies since will never go unnoticed or unappreciated. And if you are interested, below are the words I penned earlier this morning, reflecting on the events of that day (and the next few days).
It's hard to conceive that it's been 10 whole years since our lives were forever altered, on April 16, 2007. I don't know that one event has so singularly impacted my life in a more profound way. As I've said before, it was innocence lost for many of us, especially because, being from just an hour and a half away from Blacksburg, it hit home. No longer could we say, "It could never happen here." That notion was stripped from us, forever shattered, and left us shaken, trying to pick up the pieces. The world showed us its hard truths that day in a way that none of us were prepared to handle.
I remember that day also because it was my first experience handling a breaking news story. As a freshman at Emory & Henry, and the Sports Editor of The Whitetopper, I assumed that I would be sitting on the sidelines so to speak on this one. But given my connection and attachment to the university, I was chosen to write the "healer" piece. But what power did my words have to heal, especially when I was far from healed myself? I had so many stories, so many other tasks to manage, but I gave this absolute priority, because compared to the import of local and even national sports stories, well, there was no compare. I remember being absolutely frozen, trying to say the absolute perfect words that would mend our collective souls.
I took to heart that notion of fragility, that innocence lost, that 'it could never happen here' sentiment, and flipped the script. I posited that students, young people trying to better themselves, should NEVER have to fear whether they're going to have to fend off an attacker while attending class. I spoke of community, the sense of not only far Southwest Virginia, or the community of academia which was overwhelmingly supportive in our time of grief, but the entire country, and to some extent, world, whose eyes and ears were now squarely focused on Blacksburg and Virginia Tech, but for all of the wrong reasons. I spoke of strengthening each other as a result of this tragedy. I spoke, but as well-intentioned as my words were, they lacked to poetic power to heal.
Luckily for me, Nikki Giovanni did a lot of the healing for me, and for us all. My words, and the words of so many others were transposed and transformed by her. She gave them meaning and they hit the mark because of her. When she stepped up to the stage, she transfixed a nation, she transcended the moment, and she let us know for the first time that it was going to be okay. With her words, "We will prevail, we will prevail, we WILL prevail, we are Virginia Tech," she began the healing process, as moments later, chants of "LET'S GO HOKIES" enveloped Cassell Coliseum. At first, I didn't want them to break out. It felt inappropriate to cheer for an athletic team given what had happened. But after a moment, I relented. I couldn't fight back the tears, and I couldn't envision a more perfect way to encapsulate the spirit that is Virginia Tech. I had never heard those words in a more hauntingly beautiful way. I had never said them with such resolve or meant them more.
The Let's Go Hokies chant restored a degree of normalcy, even if just a modicum. That moment, that day, we began our healing. And though we will never be fully healed, and we will never move on, and we will neVer forgeT, we WILL prevail. And so here we are, 10 years later. Even to those of you who are not Hokies on the other 364 days of the year, we are glad to welcome you to the family. We are glad that we are not alone on that one day a year we all share in vigil for perpetuity: the day that we ALL became Hokies. And THAT is the thing that the shooter didn't account for, that he didn't understand: that his actions could have the unifying effect that they did. Through banding together, both Hokies and non-Hokies alike, we HAVE prevailed!
I was not a student at the time, as ultimately I went to a different school for my undergraduate degree as we now know, but I was still a Hokie. I would run a Virginia Tech blog for SB Nation for 5 years and actually consummate the dream and attend Virginia Tech in later years. And on that day, and on every April 16th since, you all are Hokies as well. So I wanted to thank you all for the continuing outpouring of support and kind words. The international sense of community that has been created and fostered for Hokies since will never go unnoticed or unappreciated. And if you are interested, below are the words I penned earlier this morning, reflecting on the events of that day (and the next few days).
It's hard to conceive that it's been 10 whole years since our lives were forever altered, on April 16, 2007. I don't know that one event has so singularly impacted my life in a more profound way. As I've said before, it was innocence lost for many of us, especially because, being from just an hour and a half away from Blacksburg, it hit home. No longer could we say, "It could never happen here." That notion was stripped from us, forever shattered, and left us shaken, trying to pick up the pieces. The world showed us its hard truths that day in a way that none of us were prepared to handle.
I remember that day also because it was my first experience handling a breaking news story. As a freshman at Emory & Henry, and the Sports Editor of The Whitetopper, I assumed that I would be sitting on the sidelines so to speak on this one. But given my connection and attachment to the university, I was chosen to write the "healer" piece. But what power did my words have to heal, especially when I was far from healed myself? I had so many stories, so many other tasks to manage, but I gave this absolute priority, because compared to the import of local and even national sports stories, well, there was no compare. I remember being absolutely frozen, trying to say the absolute perfect words that would mend our collective souls.
I took to heart that notion of fragility, that innocence lost, that 'it could never happen here' sentiment, and flipped the script. I posited that students, young people trying to better themselves, should NEVER have to fear whether they're going to have to fend off an attacker while attending class. I spoke of community, the sense of not only far Southwest Virginia, or the community of academia which was overwhelmingly supportive in our time of grief, but the entire country, and to some extent, world, whose eyes and ears were now squarely focused on Blacksburg and Virginia Tech, but for all of the wrong reasons. I spoke of strengthening each other as a result of this tragedy. I spoke, but as well-intentioned as my words were, they lacked to poetic power to heal.
Luckily for me, Nikki Giovanni did a lot of the healing for me, and for us all. My words, and the words of so many others were transposed and transformed by her. She gave them meaning and they hit the mark because of her. When she stepped up to the stage, she transfixed a nation, she transcended the moment, and she let us know for the first time that it was going to be okay. With her words, "We will prevail, we will prevail, we WILL prevail, we are Virginia Tech," she began the healing process, as moments later, chants of "LET'S GO HOKIES" enveloped Cassell Coliseum. At first, I didn't want them to break out. It felt inappropriate to cheer for an athletic team given what had happened. But after a moment, I relented. I couldn't fight back the tears, and I couldn't envision a more perfect way to encapsulate the spirit that is Virginia Tech. I had never heard those words in a more hauntingly beautiful way. I had never said them with such resolve or meant them more.
The Let's Go Hokies chant restored a degree of normalcy, even if just a modicum. That moment, that day, we began our healing. And though we will never be fully healed, and we will never move on, and we will neVer forgeT, we WILL prevail. And so here we are, 10 years later. Even to those of you who are not Hokies on the other 364 days of the year, we are glad to welcome you to the family. We are glad that we are not alone on that one day a year we all share in vigil for perpetuity: the day that we ALL became Hokies. And THAT is the thing that the shooter didn't account for, that he didn't understand: that his actions could have the unifying effect that they did. Through banding together, both Hokies and non-Hokies alike, we HAVE prevailed!
