We Are All In The Next Building

By BARRY FRIEDMAN

“Some of my friends are still waiting around to go home. I don’t know any more than anyone else … I will echo the thanks to the first responders.”

That’s my friend Michael Green, professor of History and department chair at the University of Nevada Las Vegas, who posted that on the afternoon of Dec. 6.

“I was in the next building … I heard gunfire, about 8-9 shots, sometime after noon. Within the hour the police took us out of the office and across the street. Some of us have stuff inside or outside our buildings.”

He was in the next building.

I teach a writing workshop in Tulsa, Oklahoma. One of my students, Warren, a Methodist pastor, sees an orthopedist.

What does that have to do with Michael?

On June 3, 2022, Warren had an appointment, which had to be cancelled, because on June 2, a man walked into the Natalie Medical Building on the campus at Saint Francis Hospital and shot and killed Dr. Preston Phillips, Warren’s doctor.

I have had my prostate checked in the next building.

The man, Michael Louis, also killed Stephanie Husen, Amanda Glenn, and William Love before killing himself.

Louis brought an AR-15 that afternoon.

Louis bought the AR-15 that afternoon.

On the day of the shooting, Tulsa’s mayor, G.T. Bynum, Oklahoma’s governor, Kevin Stitt, its senators and representatives — all Republicans — said it was too early to talk about guns in America.

It’s always too early.

It’s always too late.

I was crosstown when the shooting happened.

We’re all in the next building.

We’re all next to The Tops Friendly Supermarket in Buffalo, next to Robb Elementary in Uvalde, next to Virginia Tech University in Blacksburg, next to the Pulse Night Club in Orlando, next to Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, next to UNLV.

A few days after the shooting, I wrote a piece for Esquire and I got to muse about violence and serendipity.

“It was early. Local television news was now saying one dead, maybe not five as reported earlier. One could be an angry spouse, a disgruntled employee. One doesn’t make you think of renting an apartment in Reykjavik. Maybe the earlier report was wrong. It wasn’t. Later, another reporter said, “Five people were killed, including the killer.” Still another said, “Four people were killed, plus the shooter.”

Humanity is in the parsing.

The dead don’t get to muse.

What does a bullet actually feel like when it pierces your body? When does the blood happen? When do you realize this is no ordinary day? When do you realize you’ll never see your daughter again?

Maybe you have Christmas gifts in the car that need wrapping.

Who knows about that?

University of Nevada, Las Vegas professors Naoko Takemaru, Cha-Jan “Jerry” Chang, and Patricia Navarro-Velez know, but they were murdered on Dec. 6.

The people killed in Tulsa at the Natalie Medical Building also know.

The people killed in … also know.

On the news, there were tips about the importance of practicing active shooter drills at home, at play, in malls. Online, you can find bulletproof backpacks for your children.

This is how a country surrenders.

That night in Tulsa, I took a walk around the University of Tulsa campus — I have joked with Michael that my university is much more serene and beautiful than his — when a man came up behind me and followed me for what seemed like too long. I passed an angry man at a bus stop who was half on the curb, half on the street, punching his arms and kicking out his feet in all directions. I then saw a man sitting under a tree screaming at his dog who was sitting in his lap.

According to the Rand Corporation, 54.7% of adults in Oklahoma have guns.

When I returned home, my wife had already gone to bed. I turned on the TV. The killer wanted pain meds and was refused — maybe that was it. There was a report of a bomb in a Muskogee home — maybe some connection there. But then there was a report on grain problems in Southwest Oklahoma. Rain was forecast. There were car commercials, campaign ads.

We had moved on. Same day. But we had moved on.

One of the anchors wished us a goodnight.

The Late Show with Stephen Colbert opened with a skit about Elon Musk and horse sex.

Michael told me in the days that followed the shooting, he remembered getting strength from helping others. Allaying others’ fears helped allay his.

“Then at home,” he wrote, “Deb [his wife] couldn’t find something, and I hit my head on a cabinet and damn near got a concussion.”

They were having friends over — Hanukah was approaching — and his wife, inexplicably, bought ham.

“When she gets home,” Michael wrote, “she is going to get both barrels from me.”

A gun joke.

Michael got to laugh.

Who gets to laugh?

On Facebook, America’s Waiting Room after shootings, he reminded us:

“Here’s what matters: Some are dead or injured. Our hearts are with them. Some are suffering other anguish. Our hearts are with them. Some are saying gun control is not the answer. They can go to hell.”

Barry Friedman is an essayist, political columnist, petroleum geology reporter — quit laughing — and comedian living in Tulsa, Okla. His latest book, “Jack Sh*t: Volume One: Voluptuous Bagels and other Concerns of Jack Friedman” is out and the follow-up, “Jack Sh*t, Volume 2: Wait For The Movie. It’s In Color” is scheduled to be released in February. In addition, he is the author of “Road Comic,” “Funny You Should Mention It,” “Four Days and a Year Later,” “The Joke Was On Me,” and a novel, “Jacob Fishman’s Marriages.” See barrysfriedman.com and friedmanofthe-plains.com.

From The Progressive Populist, February 1, 2024

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