Introduction
Around 10 P.M. on Friday, February 27, Gary Searle died in the gymnasium atMiddletown High School. After the bullet smashed through the left side of hisskull and tore into his brain, he probably lived for ten to fifteen seconds.
The brain is a fragile organ suspended in a liquid environment. Not only does abullet destroy whatever brain tissue is in its path, but the shock waves fromthe impact severely jar the entire organ, ripping apart millions of delicatestructures and connections. In the seconds that follow, the brain swells withblood and other fluids. The parts of the brain that control breathing andheartbeat stop. One doctor described it to me as "an earthquake in the head."
At the moment of Gary's death I was in the library at the state university,where I was a sophomore studying journalism. As soon as I heard the news, I wenthome to Middletown, determined not to leave until I understood what had happenedthere.
Returnin
Introduction
Around 10 P.M. on Friday, February 27, Gary Searle died in the gymnasium atMiddletown High School. After the bullet smashed through the left side of hisskull and tore into his brain, he probably lived for ten to fifteen seconds.
The brain is a fragile organ suspended in a liquid environment. Not only does abullet destroy whatever brain tissue is in its path, but the shock waves fromthe impact severely jar the entire organ, ripping apart millions of delicatestructures and connections. In the seconds that follow, the brain swells withblood and other fluids. The parts of the brain that control breathing andheartbeat stop. One doctor described it to me as "an earthquake in the head."
At the moment of Gary's death I was in the library at the state university,where I was a sophomore studying journalism. As soon as I heard the news, I wenthome to Middletown, determined not to leave until I understood what had happenedthere.
Returning to Middletown was like stepping into a thick fog of bewilderment,fury, agony, and despair. For weeks I staggered through it, searching out otherlost, wandering souls. Some were willing to talk to me. Others spoke becausethey felt a need to defend themselves even though no one had pointed an accusingfinger at them. Some even sought me out because they wanted to talk. Asif speaking about it was a way of trying to figure it out, of beginning thelong, painful process of grieving and moving ahead.
Some refused to speak because it must have been too painful. For others, Isuspect it was because they had learned something about themselves that theywere still struggling to accept — or to conceal.
I spoke to everyone who would speak to me. In addition I studied everything Icould find on the many similar incidents that have occurred in other schoolsaround our country in the past thirty years.
The story you are about to read is really two stories. One is about whathappened here in Middletown. The other is the broader tale of what is happeningall around our country — in a world of schools and guns and violence that hasforever changed the place I once called home. The quotes and facts from otherincidents are in a different-style print. What happened in Middletown is inplain print.
This, then, is the story of what I learned. It is told in many voices, in wordsfar more eloquent and raw than any I could have thought of on my own. It is astory of heartbreak and fear and regret. But mostly it is a warning. Violencecomes in many forms — guns, fists, and words of hate and contempt. Unless wechange the way we treat others in school and out, there will only be more — andmore horrible — tragedies.
— Denise Shipley
Continues...
Excerpted from Give a Boy a Gunby Todd Strasser Copyright © 2002 by Todd Strasser. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
