COLUMN: Violence: an overly easy answer

From Matthew Taff's, My Dear Wormwood?", Fall '96 From Matthew Taff's, My Dear Wormwood?", Fall '96A shopping trip almost turnsFrom Matthew Taff's, My Dear Wormwood?", Fall '96A shopping trip almost turnsdeadly when one lousyFrom Matthew Taff's, My Dear Wormwood?", Fall '96A shopping trip almost turnsdeadly when one lousydriverr pulls a gun on another. From Matthew Taff's, My Dear Wormwood?", Fall '96A shopping trip almost turnsdeadly when one lousydriverr pulls a gun on another.Two weeks ago, I went on my first Thriftway trip of the semester. It was early Tuesday afternoon, my Econ class had just been cancelled and I was about two meals away from eating cold cereal for dinner, so off I went. Now, since these were guys, and all guys harbor the constant belief that they are the world's best driver, of course they immediately started yelling at each other about how it's the other guy's fault. I listened for a few seconds, amused at their obviously honed skills in profanity, and was about to be on my way when I heard the words that turned my blood to ice: "You better back off or I'm gonna bust a cap in your ass!" Time stopped. My heart stopped. Slowly, as if I could feel my eyes rotate in their sockets, my gaze turned to the driver who had spoken the words. The man had a gun. The first thought that seared through my head was: "Oh no, I'm just out for groceries and I'm going to see someone die." The second thought that raced through my brain was: "Find a place to duck. Now." The third thought that launched through my mind was: "Remember what you see." With that, time seemed to start again. I looked at the car the man was driving. Somehow, some part of my brain was still functioning and recognized it as a Ford Thunderbird, the same as my father drives. Amazingly enough, I remembered that this car has a blind spot, which my dad and I found out the hard way when he taught me how to parallel park. I was only a yard or two away from it, a few feet from the passenger rear-door. I started to duck down and move toward the blind spot when, thankfully, the other driver sped off, deciding he could do his shopping later. The gunman decided this fight wasn't worth pursuing; he left and it was over. I couldn't see his license plate, but I got a good look at his face and I don't think I will ever forget it. I spent a lot of time that afternoon thinking about what had happened. I thought about how I had reacted, and whether I could have done better or worse. I know I did OK; after all, I'm still alive. I also know that if the man in the second car had died, I would have spent years wondering what I could have done to save him. Mostly, I thought about how ludicrous the whole thing was; neither car was even scratched, and all of the sudden a human life had been in jeopardy. I haven't come up with any brilliant conclusions from this incident, but I have decided on one thing: violence is just too easy. I guess this shouldn't come as a surprise, but it's still hard to accept. Like a lot of people, I have a fairly short fuse. There are plenty of times I feel like hauling off at someone. Throwing a punch is easy. Shooting a gun is even easier. Controlling your temper is hard. Making a good logical argument is hard. In a society that worships the idea of a man using his fists and automatic weapons to solve problems (look how successful action and martial-arts movies are), how do you explain and warn against the dangers of violence? I don't know the answer, but if anyone out there does, please speak up -- and soon. The recent crime spree that's erupted around campus has students afraid and ready to lash out. I've had friends ask me if I know where to buy guns, they're so worried. If we don't learn how to control our fear and anger, we run the risk of losing our humanity. Has this experience really changed me? Maybe. Will I still go shopping? We all have to eat. Will I start jumping at shadows? No, I refuse to live in fear. The next time I feel my temper rise, will I make a stronger effort to make peace with myself? Damn straight.