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A Mother's Reckoning: Living in the Aftermath of Tragedy

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Sue Klebold

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“Every once in a bestseller list, you come across a truly exceptional craftsman, a wordsmith so adept at cutting, shaping, and honing strings of words that you find yourself holding your breath while those words pass from page to eye to brain. You know the feeling: you inhale, hold it, then slowly let it out, like one about to take down a bull moose with a Winchester .30-06. You force your mind to the task, scope out the area, take penetrating aim, and . . . read. But instead of dropping the quarry, you find you’ve become the hunted, the target. The projectile has somehow boomeranged and with its heat-sensing abilities (you have raised a sweat) darts straight towards you. Duck! And turn the page lest it drill between your eyes.”

“My ideas and judgment proceed only gropingly, faltering, tripping, and stumbling; and when I have gone as far as I can, I am still in no degree satisfied, for I see more land beyond, but with a troubled and clouded sight, so that I cannot make it out clearly. And taking upon me to write indifferently of whatever comes into my head, and therein making use of nothing but my own natural means, if I happened, as I often do, accidentally to meet in any good author the same subjects upon which I have attempted to write (as I have just done this moment in Plutarch[...]) seeing myself so weak and miserable, so heavy and sluggish in comparison with those men, I at once pity and despise myself. Yet I am pleased with this, that my opinions have often the honor to tally with theirs, and that at least I follow the same path, though far behind them, saying, "That is so." Also that I have that faculty, which not everyone has, of knowing the vast difference between them and me. And notwithstanding all that, I let my ideas go their way, weak and lowly just as I produced them, without plastering up or mending the defects that this comparison has laid open to my own view. A man needs good strong loins to keep pace with these people.”