WHY LUKE SKYWALKER IS EXACTLY AS HE SHOULD BE IN THE LAST JEDI: A Character Study

All movies have their flaws. Sometimes it is little things like editing mistakes or continuity errors; things that don’t really detract from the overall story but are noticed nonetheless and can distract a viewer. The most common mistakes come in the form of plot holes, convoluted character development, and narrative imbalance. These are usually referred to as bad or lazy writing (but it isn’t always the writer’s fault). In fact, there are a lot of people at fault in situations like these. From the actors sometimes “suggesting” changes, to studio executives demanding adjustments to better meet certain market goals, the faults hardly lie with a single person.

            It may be hard to understand this because lately there seems to be all sorts of commentary from individuals that are aimed at a single, and often wrong, person (be it the director, writer, or actor). Angry armies of consumers, armed with their digital pitchforks, do their damnedest to make sure that their opinions are the loudest and most important one heard. And nothing brings out the mob like fandoms. These self-aggrandized knights have taken it upon themselves to protect the virtue of material that they feel is sacred and will strike with genocidal anger at any slight, not matter how small (or imagined).

            Recently, a small number of “fans” have gotten together to raise money in order to remake Star Wars: Episode VIII—The Last Jedi because they felt that it robbed them of something that was never theirs to begin with. They quickly assigned blame to everyone they could. They blamed George Lucas for selling out to Disney. They blamed Disney for abandoning the core foundation of the Star Wars universe (which was already about as solid as fog).  They blamed the director. They blamed the actors. They blamed everyone, except themselves for getting their hopes too high and not just enjoying the final product that was offered.

            Their biggest complaint came from the depiction of Luke Skywalker, played by Mark Hamill. Instead of the lightsaber-spinning, rock-lifting, Force superman they were wanting, they got a grumpy hermit who had shut himself off from the Force completely and literally suckled at the teat of his life in questionable exile.

            The tantrums began right away.

Arguments abounded that Luke, having endured all he had in his youth, would never give up, never flee from the good fight. He wouldn’t have done it all for nothing.

            True enough; but he didn’t do it all for nothing, it’s just that nothing became of what he did. Keep in mind that all of the previously-written adventures that took place in novels and comic books have all been erased from canon. So that Luke Skywalker, the one who got married, opened a Jedi academy, and constantly fought with the Darth Vader that haunted his own thoughts, would not (and obviously did not) run when the going to tough. But that Luke is now a legend. Quite literally, actually, because those stories are considered part of the Legends: the stories that happened outside of the current Star Wars universe that is overseen by Disney.

            Think of it like this: all of those novels and comics were just the tall tales that the people in the galaxy far, far away told each other about the hero.

            If you look at the actual Luke, the one presented in the original three Star Wars films, it is perfectly logical that he would hightail it as far as he could go. Of the many wounds inflicted upon the fans’ memories of Luke Skywalker, the three they called out most for being out of character, were the isolationism, his failure as a Jedi, and his death.

            For starters, Luke was raised in isolationism. He told C3-PO as much, noting that Tatooine was about as far from the bright center of the universe as one could go. Not only that, but the planet was isolated from Imperial presence until the opening of the fist film. Also, consider that his home was in the middle of nowhere. He had friends, but they lived much closer to the settlements, so he more than likely had limited contact with them. The poor kid feels so alone that, after his family is killed by Stormtroopers, he tells Obi-Wan that there is “nothing” left on the planet for him. He is the lone hero, after all. He single-handedly takes down the Death Star. He confronts Vader, alone, in The Empire Strikes Back. He cremates Vader’s body alone. So, not only has he known separation his whole life, he is actually comfortable with it.

            Perhaps not so much with the solitude he finds once he he’s proclaimed a hero. This heroic isolationism can be more difficult to deal with because now Luke finds himself placed on a pedestal like a fragile piece of priceless art in a museum, to be seen but never interacted with. He wants to be a great pilot (and Jedi), like his father, but once he demonstrates his prowess for it, think of the unbelievable pressure put on him to keep it up. In The Empire Strikes Back, he may have purposefully chosen to be assigned the rank of Commander among the rest of the grunts in order to alleviate some of his feelings of inadequacy at the mantle of “hero.” It is in the opening of the film that Luke, again, chooses to be alone. He sees something fall from they sky and elects to check it out himself. While he is on his own, he is attacked by the wampa creature and left to fend for himself. Even when he escapes and is wandering in the blizzard, he doesn’t really look panicked, just overcome by the elements. Of course, soon after, Obi-Wan’s ghost shows up, followed by Han. Later, Yoda instructs him that he must face his fears inside the swampy cave alone. Luke shrugs this off and heads in.

            So why is it such a stretch of the gonads to accept that, after Ben Solo turned to the Dark Side, Luke would run off to be alone? And his choice would have directly affected his mood and personality in that time as well. Don’t forget that while Obi-Wan and Yoda exiled themselves, they did not cut themselves off from the Force. In fact, both worked to strengthen their connection to the mystical power. As referenced at the end of Revenge of the Sith, Yoda and Obi-Wan are going to commune with “an old friend” (presumably the slain Qui-Gon Jinn) while in hiding. Luke Skywalker, however, had no such accompaniment. By closing himself off, he rebuffed any connection to his former masters. This is evidenced in the scene where Luke sets off to destroy the ancient Jedi tree where he encounters Yoda’s spirit. This comes only after Luke has reawakened the Force within himself in his skirmish with Rey. True, he was not technically alone on Ahch-To as it was home to the Lanai (a fish-turtle-bird kind of humanoid creature), but they kept to themselves as did Luke so it is doubtful he was influential in their society.

            One of the biggest truths about Luke’s isolation is probably a little more important to the plot than many think. When Rey arrives with Chewbacca, Luke is a bit excited to see the wookie; but he is shattered when he asks about Han. By severing his connection to the Force, Luke has abandoned his friends and family, leaving himself free to live his hermit’s life without constant worry about their well-being. There is a deleted scene where Luke reacts to Han’s death (especially after knowing it was at the hands of Kylo Ren), but it could also show Luke’s frustration at himself for either letting it happen, or for having decided to turn off his ability to know that it happened at all.

            Luke’s isolation really shouldn’t come as any surprise when compared to the life of the other Jedi he had trained with. It seems prudent that whenever the Jedi are nearly wiped out, the survivors go into hiding. And while the exact amount of time Luke has spent on Ahch-To is not yet clarified, it has been guessed to be between eight and fifteen years (the time depends on how long theorists give him to actually locate the planet he wishes to hide on considering he most likely didn’t have an escape plan in place at the time he needed one). Can a person completely change who they are in that amount of time? Well, I doubt anyone is the same person they were ten years ago. Also, remember that Luke witnessed everything he has worked so hard to build and shape and maintain literally come crashing down around him. He watched lives snuffed out and he could not protect them. He has been emotionally shattered, damaged. He has seen all the good stripped from his universe, leaving only disillusion and contempt. Is it really any wonder that he is jaded and fed up when we see him after he has had time to stew in his own misery?

            For those that would argue that a Jedi would never do that, I argue that Luke was never really a full Jedi. He a few weeks of training (at most) with Obi-Wan, then, maybe a few years with Yoda. Looking back to the prequels, Jedi are found at birth and put into training until they can pass the challenges. That can take between 16 and 25 years. Then they have to be a Jedi Knight until the rank of Master is bestowed upon them. Luke just doesn’t measure up. In Return of the Jedi, he claims to be a Jedi Knight when confronting Jaba the Hutt. He gives himself the rank of Master at some point after the closing credits of that film. So, we know that it is more than reasonable to assume that he wasn’t ready for such an undertaking (he just happened to be the last one)—and he knows it, too. This shame is what drives Luke to Ahch-To. This shame is why he exiles himself. This shame has turned him jaded and crass towards the good the Force can do and showed him the hypocrisy of the Jedi teachings.

Another reason that Luke would absolutely head for the hills is because all of his failures are haunting him. Nearly every single one of Luke’s victories is actually revealed to be a failure later on in his story.

            At the end of A New Hope, Luke, guided by the Force, and taking a big step in his Jedi training, destroys the Death Star, saving the Rebellion forces on Yavin 4. There is a medal ceremony, fireworks, probably a nice reception afterwards with punch and light hors d’oeuvres. The galaxy is safe and the bad guys are defeated. Except that Luke’s heroics didn’t do anything but royally piss off the Emperor. The Death Star was just a mechanized instrument of fear and destruction, not the base of operations for the Empire. Destroying it won the battle, not the war. Luke’s youth kept his head floating in the hero clouds for probably far too long, because, when we next see him in Hoth, he is far from the same Luke that grinned ridiculously after getting hid medal. He is aware of his failure, and likely more than a little afraid that others are too.

            This leads him to take risks like venturing out on his own that, without his connection to the Force, he would doubtfully have done. Could it be that he feels that he needs to constantly test himself in dangerous situations in order to maintain his hero status in the eyes of his peers? In these scenes, he is either given a warning or offered assistance. He ignores both by saying that he’ll be “all right.” Ultimately, he is not. In fact, Luke is rescued in all of the series more than any other character. He’s saved from the Sandpeople. He’s saved from the shootout with the Stormtroopers. He’s saved from the wampa. He’s saved from freezing to death. He’s saved from being stranded on Degobah. He’s saved from dangling from the bottom of Cloud City. The list goes on. And each time he needs saving it is because something that he has done that is meant to be heroic has actually failed.

            In his fearless confrontation with Darth Vader in Cloud City, Luke is giving his friends a chance to escape by taking on the biggest bad guy around. During the fight he displays some skill that impresses his nemesis, but is nothing more than show, really. His act of heroism is inspired by his victory in the cave on Degobah, but not really grounded in reality. Critics have stated that Vader is simply toying with Luke in this fight, knowing it is his son and looking to turn him. He allows Luke to get the upper hand in a few instances, but Vader hardly puts up a real fight (actually, Vader doesn’t really fight that hard in any of his combat scenes—even with Obi-Wan), and Luke is overcome with confidence. Until Vader quickly cuts off the boy’s hand and watches him fall to his death. In their next duel aboard the second Death Star, it is pretty much the same, only Luke is stronger in his saber skills and in the Force. Vader, however, still hacks away lazily at Luke, waiting to be beaten. When all is said and done, and Vader has disposed of the Emperor (not Luke, you’ll notice), the day is saved once and for all. Only this time, by defeating Darth Vader, Luke has also killed his father, Anakin Skywalker. The sad fact is that Luke’s entire mission (which he gave to himself), was to save Anakin. It is unclear at this point how much this failure affected Luke in the times between films, but that wasn’t the Jedi’s last failure that was disguised as a win.

            When Luke is first introduced in Return of the Jedi, he has changed yet again. Long-gone is that cocky farm boy who played with toy spaceships in his basement and dreamed of grand adventures. He has been replaced by a darker, hardened person. Enough time has passed that he has constructed a new lightsaber and picked up several new Jedi skills. He is confident, brash, and suave. Even if you see this an act he put on with the rest of his crew to rescue Han, it is still a vastly different Luke than the one we left at the end of Empire, and even more changed than the grinning idiot at the end of Hope. But we are also introduced to a Luke who seems to have decided that his personal needs are more important than those of the Rebellion. Instead of leading his friends into battle, he veers off on his selfish quest to bring Anakin Skywalker back to the light. Simply put, Luke’s personality in The Last Jedi is a logical step in his character’s development, based on his previous evolutions, each one sharpened by the failures of the previous version.

            Oh, but his failures are not complete, for at the end of Return of the Jedi, we see the heroes smiling and having a good time in the Ewok village as pieces of the Death Star rain down around them. Again, there was much rejoicing, because, this time, the Emperor has been defeated—but not the Empire. Out of the vestiges of the Empire came the First Order. Same team, different name, new coach.

            After the events of Return of the Jedi, it is referenced in official Star Wars information that Luke spent the next decade or so scouring the stars in search of Force-sensitives whom he could train in the ways of the Jedi. His goal being to raise a new temple and to put balance in his teachings. But this is where Luke’s failures almost become predetermined and self-fulfilling as he struggles to meet expectations; his own and others’. Luke does as expected, searching for and training a new Order of Jedi, but he cannot keep his prize student from succumbing to his own biggest fear—the Dark Side. Instead of confronting Ben Solo right away and possibly guiding the young man through his own troubles, Luke considers destroying his own nephew. Now, depending on whose side of the story you believe, Luke either chooses to spare Ben’s life only to have Ben turn on him, or, Luke strikes out at Ben forcing Ben to defend himself, thus turning him. Either way, Luke has lost. Ben becomes Kylo Ren and obliterates the new Jedi, keeping Luke alive in order make him suffer in his own failure. This leads to Luke’s second major failure in meeting the expectations.

            As the only surviving Jedi Master, Luke is supposed to be a champion for the New Republic, headed by his own sister. Unfortunately, when he is needed most, he goes into hiding. Unlike the Jedi before him, he is not hiding from those who wish to destroy him, but rather, he is hiding from those whom he may destroy. An argument could be made that Luke is keeping everyone safe by hiding from Kylo Ren, knowing that he would force him into a showdown that would be fatal to both of them, but very little of Luke’s actions and dialogue on Ahch-To lean towards that theory, given that he comes across as so downhearted and has seemingly become dissident to the Jedi’s ways.

            Ultimately, Luke has failed at the one thing he’s wanted since talking with Obi-Wan in the old Jedi’s hut: to become a great Jedi.

Spoiler alert (albeit a bit late), Luke dies at the end of The Last Jedi. It is a much-debated moment that is both shocking and powerful. Those who loved it found it to be a poignant close to Luke’s story, allowing him to go out like Obi-Wan and Yoda. Detractors found it cheap, uncharacteristic, and a major let down.

            But why wouldn’t Luke give in and allow himself to become one with the Force? This is a sacrifice that all great heroes make. If the Force is God, then Anakin is Satan, the one who fell and Luke is Christ, the embodiment of the Force made flesh and was then sacrificed for the salvation of all. Really, allowing him to live is robbing the hero of the ultimate reward. Part of being a Jedi, as recalled from the prequels, is the personal sacrifices that must be made. Detachment from possessions and emotion and relationships are all part of their monastic lifestyle. Clearly, as there are no other Jedi to go against him after Return of the Jedi, Luke is free to bend the rules as he sees fit, but giving up his life when it is needed would be something that he has not only witnessed (through Obi-Wan and Yoda), but would welcome. How many other Jedi are famous for paying the ultimate cost when it mattered most? It is not only an emotional send-off to a character, but it is a very pivotal one in the hero’s journey: the one that Lucas followed so spectacularly when crafting his story in the beginning.

            As part of his enlightenment, Luke displayed a Force power not previously seen in the Star Wars universe: astral projection. Not just a phantom version of himself, but a seemingly corporeal one that interacted with people physically (to a point). I would argue, however, that Luke did not reveal a plot-convenient new Force power. Instead, I suggest that he was able to place himself at the final battle by projecting himself into the mind of everyone there using a supped-up version of the Jedi Mind Trick. Rian Johnson has confirmed that Luke’s look and weapon were no mistakes but were intended props used to drive Kylo Ren mad with rage. Luke looks precisely as he did when Kylo last saw him; he is using Anakin’s lightsaber—which Ren himself helped destroy previously in the film; he is completely impervious. I would submit as proof he is using the mind trick that Luke leaves no footprints in the red salt, the way everyone else does (specifically shown when the Rebel commander steps past the dugout and leaves a blood-red footprint); after the blaster onslaught, there is not a speck of red dust on Luke; finally, before the reveal, during the fight, Luke and Kylo never actually lock saber blades—Luke just dodges. See, Luke knows that he cannot beat Kylo Ren in a physical contest, but he absolutely can beat him in a mental one. Luke then lets Kylo Ren defeat himself. This not only leaves Kylo unfulfilled, and robbed of the biggest drive to his character, but also looking humiliated.

            All of that effort has taken its toll one Luke. After having distanced himself from the Force for so long, and then performing such an act of absolute power, shows him that he is ready to move on to the next level—to become one with the force. Now, there are those who argue that Luke “gives up” and dies like a coward, but they are not fully comprehending what Luke has done. As Obi-Wan stated, by dying, he becomes stronger than he “could possibly imagine.” Becoming one with the Force is not giving up, and I cannot understand how anyone could mistake that action as being out of character for Luke. Surly, having already been conversing with the spirit of Obi-Wan and then with Yoda as well, Luke was fully aware of what could happen.

Think of Luke’s journey like riding on an elevator. You get in on the ground floor. You know there is much more above you. The elevator goes up, stopping at each of the next three floors. You know those floors are there. Then, the elevator goes up to your floor. Are you completely baffled at what happened to all the floors in between, or how you made it to your destination? Of course not. You accept that there are floors below you without having seen them. So why is Luke Skywalker’s character development so hard to comprehend? The process is the same. We left him for a while, and this is how he is when we see him again.

            Was The Last Jedi a great movie? It sure was. Was it perfect? Hell no. While I do like that Disney seemed to learned the Jar-Jar lesson (cute aliens intended for childish delight are better left small, and tertiary), I felt that some scenes were much longer than necessary and others not nearly long enough. I was impressed with the risks the narrative took and was left wanting much more. But this isn’t a study of the entire film, just a response to the backlash of hate about Luke’s character.

            In the end, we’re left with questions that may or may not be answered, and I’m okay with that. The whole universe is fictional, so who the hell cares? The vitriol dealt at the creators of this film was wholly undeserved. I can understand a personal connection to a fictional character or universe, but thinking that your devotions gives you some privilege to dictate what goes on therein is just asinine.

            The unseen actions of Luke Skywalker in the times between Return of the Jedi and The Last Jedi leave the door open to pretty much any number of possibilities. The one chosen by Rian Johnson and his creative team, is not only logical, it is now official. Time to get over it and see what the payoff in Episode IX will be.

An Open Letter to My Children

Dear Evelyn and James,

After the incidents across the country, and the outlandish dialogues that I have read/overheard regarding school safety, I felt compelled to put my thoughts down. Some bad people have done some bad things, and, as always, no one can seem to agree on A) what is the worst part of the whole thing, and B) how to handle it. I won’t be around forever, and I doubt that (please, God) we will never have to deal with the situations like others have had to go through. But I thought you’d like to know where I stand. You two are smart, and your mother and I have never talked down to you. I won't change that now.

Some have suggested that we give teachers guns and teach them to use them. Essentially, training our teachers to be soldiers. Then there are those who have suggested that we put soldiers in the schools with you, for your safety—or, former soldiers, at the very least.

Hiring veterans to patrol our schools? Really? Our public school systems are severely underfunded as it is. Where is all of this money supposed to come from? Could every city in the country afford this solution? Kettering has, what, fifteen public schools in the district? Let’s say you hired one vet for each (because one armed, specially trained person is a deterrent, right?). Guess what? Now their income is factored into the school/city budget. And how much should we pay these fine folks for protecting our children? Certainly NOT minimum wage. That would be an insult, right? They deserve more, right? So how much is a parent's piece of mind actually worth? Suddenly, we have to put a damned dollar sign on our kids' lives. Because do we want the security personnel taking the same the same attitude of “They don’t pay me enough for this,” that the stereotypical youth employee takes when tasked with a job they feel is below them? This “suggestion” of hiring veterans is a knee-jerk reaction from people who, I believe, have a good intention, but no real sense of how things actually work. This would mean a spike in taxes as these individuals would be city employees and allotted the same access to benefits (which are funded by tax dollars). They would need the same kinds of certifications and training other teachers receive for things not related to academics—things like first aid and recognizing the signs of abuse; I mean, I can’t go into my daughter’s classroom and read a freakin’ kid’s book without VIRTUS training courses and follow-up certification.

So, is the solution volunteers? Maybe. But can we count on volunteers to act the way we need them to when it really counts? Think about it: what comes to mind, first thing, when you hear “volunteer”? Honestly, I see a person, usually elderly, working as something they have no real skill in, trying to do a good thing. I see teens who want to pretend they are the next generation of Hippies. I see folks who look like they don’t really want to be there. Again, I should emphasize that I am describing what I think of when I hear someone say “volunteer.” I know there are those who go above and beyond, like the ones who respond to natural disasters. And I applaud their courage and humanitarian actions—obviously from the comfort of my own comfy couch with power reclining feature. Because I am not trying to be holier than thou. I am who I am. I have volunteered before, and I know my experiences. Truthfully, it was a thankless and off-putting affair. Those whom I was involved with treated me as little more than a servant and then seemed to act as though my actions did not meet their high standards. But I was not on guard duty. I was not responsible for the personal safety of anyone. I was not on patrol, ready to kill if need be.

If this is a “mental health” issue, as it has been claimed, then—and forgive my bluntness—are veterans really the best choice? One needs only to google “VA” and “mental health” to start to understand why I ask. Has our news not been plagued over the last decade with reports of how cripplingly ineffective our Veterans Affairs offices have been in handling our veterans’ needs? Specifically, those of vets suffering from PTSD? Furthermore, if this really is a mental health issue, how exactly would having armed veterans in the schools deter someone who is mentally unstable? (The only sure-fire solution is a complete and total police state, because crazy people are like Pokémon: you can’t catch them all.) Yet, the answers being proposed are “solutions” though of by rational minds and presented to equally rational minds—regardless of political jokes and commentary. Clearly, those who enact these tragedies are in no way rational. Suggesting that the possibility of dying is a preventative notion to someone who sets out to kill a large number of people is ludicrous. The school in Florida had and armed guard; the hotel in Las Vegas has a small army of armed personnel; the Dallas shooter was taking out cops! The threat of death will not make an individual “think twice” about unloading on innocent people. The majority of the time, these individuals end up killing themselves anyway, or are killed by law enforcement; suicide-by-cop is a real thing, one need only change the career to have suicide-by-soldier—or former-soldier, as the case may be. And the whole notion of placing veterans in our schools only brings to light another large problem that we, as a country, face: why do we have so many displaced veterans in the first place? Which leads to longer, more drawn-out arguments.

And there it is…

The systemic issue is not firearms, nor is it health care or baseless wars. The real problem is that there is just too much to argue about. Governing is like giant magic show: start talking about one topic, then another subject is brought up to distract from the first, and suddenly the second topic is forefront and the first has vanished. And then, because that first trick is old hat by now, it is spiced up with the meta-argument (that I am apparently making) about arguing about arguing about too many things to get anything accomplished. That is why I have offered no solutions of my own design. It would be pointless. There is ALWAYS going to be someone to play Devil’s Advocate and rip the idea apart. The media is full of pundits who do so with great joy—while offering no real solutions of their own, mind you. And when pushed for a solution, it is a common smoke screen tactic to ask asinine questions or to simply question the motive of the person seeking the answer.

To get anything to change, it is going to fall on the people of this country to demand it. Demand it loud enough. Demand it consistently. Demand it unwaveringly. That is not to say I am calling for insurrection. Far from it. Peace and order win the day. Diplomacy wins the day. Both sides need to realize that. Both sides need to give and take. Both sides need to pull up their fenceposts and consider moving the party lines! Why can’t there be staunch conservatives who are in favor of stricter gun laws? Why not have a bleeding-heart liberal who values human life and their Christian faith above anything else? Why not accept that Democrats are all in favor of the 2^nd Amendment? Why not believe that Republicans want the middle class to prosper? Yes, it may mean that assault rifles are deemed illegal to purchase (I mean, their name alone tells you what they are intended for!). But it also may mean that parents can send their kids to school EVERY DAY, and not have the nagging phantom of fear in the back of their head that their child might not come home that day. Believe it or not, there are those of us out here in the USA who have no problem with someone having a hunting rifle on a gun rack in their truck, or a person having a pistol strapped to their hip while taking a stroll through the mall. But, myself, I simply ask that you respect my comfort level, too. You feel safer with your gun. Fine. But you don’t need it at my daughter’s Girl Scout picnic. And the argument of “just in case” is ridiculous! It’s called common sense. Your right to carry should not supersede my right to be calm and relaxed in an environment designed for such.

I am not opposed to having security measures in place at my children’s school. Yes, it is an inconvenience when I am in a hurry and have to provide two forms of ID, a retinal scan, a positive visual ID from the child, and a DNA test to prove parentage (of course, I hyperbolize). And you’d better believe that the idea of police officers stationed at, or near a school would ease my mind as well. But I remember the “security guards” at my high school. They were fat, middle-aged men who sat in their cars and monitored the parking lots for skippers while chain-smoking themselves into an early grave. Living, heavy-breathing punchlines.

So, who can we trust to guard our kids? Right now we’ve got angry, depressed vets with little-to-no access to health care from the government they served; police officers that we cannot trust not to shoot unarmed civilians; over-zealous altruists who see terrorists around every corner; just your average Joe Gunowner who already has a full-time job that more than likely won’t let him take time off to guard a school with his .9mm Berretta; or, any or all of the above who are hired by the city and paid with compliments because taxpayers voted down a levy to allot funding for the positions they are all crying should be filled by the above.

This is where the idea of give-and-take comes in. Taxpayers: we all want more money in our pockets, but, again, I ask how much is the life of a child worth? If you really want quality, trained professionals to protect the schools, you have to pay them. That might mean the <insert your favorite sport here> team goes without new uniforms for the next decade; or that the school has to give up wi-fi; or that, well you get the idea. I understand that no one wants to pay MORE TAXES, but if this is the solution you want, you will have to pony-up. And keep in mind, this is at the local-level of government. But that does not fix the mental health problem, does it? That is going to require more federal taxes. Break out those check books! Oh, not you, upper 1%. You’re all good. I’m only talking to the people who are eking out a living and think you are horrible monsters. I’m talking to the people whose children are literally in the crosshairs. But don’t get me wrong, you could send a bit of cash to old Uncle Sam out of the kindness of your hearts. No? Didn’t think so, but it was worth a shot—after all, it worked on Ebenezer Scrooge.

I believe we all want this to end. We all want something to be done about it. No one, however, can seemingly come up with a solution that doesn’t involve radical and illogical change. Kids bringing guns to school to kill other kids? Let’s add more guns to the equation! (Or, let’s get rid of all guns!) 1% of our society making all the money? Let’s rob them blind! (Or, let’s try trickle-down economics again and trust that they will spend their billions bettering the country!) Running out of fossil fuels? Drill, baby, drill! (Or, everyone should walk everywhere, always!) You see? It is a cycle of inane stupidity. One side says something drastically outrageous, so the other side responds in kind. The truth is that sharing memes on Facebook and posting contradictory witticisms is only strengthening the argument for the other side.

At the end of the day, I don’t want to bury either of you. I will do anything to keep you safe, and I will suffer to do so. I will eventually embrace whatever solution arises from this, but we need a solution. First and foremost. It should be logical. It should be malleable. It should be open to ridicule. That is how laws work.