Two Degrees of Separation

The following is from my 4/19/07 post on my blog, Ocular Fusion. The URL is <a href="http://www.ocularfusion.net/?p=661">http://www.ocularfusion.net/?p=661</a>

------------------------------

It&#39;s been said that there are no more than six degrees of separation between every person on earth. But when I heard that 32 innocents had died in Monday&#39;s massacre at Virginia Tech, it hit me how large and complex that particular web of relationships would be and how far it would extend across the country and even the world. I grew up in Southwest Virginia and was a graduate student at Virginia Tech and a resident of Blacksburg for 2 years. One of my first thoughts when I heard the news was, that in this particular case, there would likely be no more than two degrees of separation between one of the victims and me.

Unfortunately, I was right.

Paul is my best friend from my Blacksburg days. I met him and his wife Janette at the Blacksburg Church of Christ, and when my wife joined me there in June, 1985 after we were married, the four of us became fast friends and remain so to this day, despite the geographical distance which separates us. Paul graduated with a PhD in Engineering Mechanics and is now a professor of civil engineering at Colorado State University. I emailed him yesterday and asked him how he was and if he had heard from any of our mutual friends.

He replied that he had not, but he went on to reminisce about the three years that he had spent cordoned off in Norris Hall, "becoming one" with the intricacies of dynamics and structural analysis and also about a man he met there-Liviu Librescu. He was the 75-year-old professor and Holocaust survivor who held shut the door of Room 204 of Norris Hall as the assailant attempted to enter his classroom. That brave deed allowed enough time for most of his students to escape through the windows. He and another student were eventually shot and killed, however.

Their offices were located close together in those days, and Paul had come to know Librescu when he first arrived on sabbatical in 1985. Librescu apparently liked what he saw in Blacksburg (what sane person wouldn&#39;t?). He decided to stay there and gained a full time teaching position at Tech. He had continued to teach to the ripe old age of seventy-five, impressing his students and colleagues with his depth of experience and wisdom and his gentlemanly and scholarly manner.

As he faced the dark wrath of Cho Seung-Hui, Librescu was staring into the face of a familiar evil. He stood in the breach protecting his young charges as a man who had suffered-and survived-the senseless brutality, atrocities and nihilism of a Nazi concentration camp. But this time, there would be no escape.

Last night, I called Dave and Terri, close friends from Harding who now live in Blacksburg. Dave is director of human resources for a large automotive parts manufacturer while Terri teaches in a local public elementary school. Dave was still at work, but I talked with Terri who understandably sounded exhausted and somber. As you might expect in a university town like Blacksburg, everybody knows somebody, and in her case, the web of connections hit very close to home.

Among the dead was one of their neighbors, Jocelyne Couture-Nowak, a French instructor who was gunned down in Room 211 of Norris Hall. She was the wife of Jerzy Nowak, a horticulture professor, and had a teenage daughter who is a friend of both of Terri&#39;s children.

Dr. Kevin Granata, a world-renown researcher in biomechanics whose speciality was the movement dynamics of cerebal palsy, was also an acquaintance. Terri had worked with his wife, who was a PTSA leader and active volunteer at the elementary school, and taught their children as well.

For Terri&#39;s daughter Brooke, a senior at Blacksburg High, star lacrosse player and future Hokie, Black Monday was a cold and harsh reminder that the killer angels among us know no bounds. Austin Cloyd, a freshman who had moved to Blacksburg from Champaign, Illinois when her father took an accounting professorship at Tech, was in the same French classroom as Ms. Couture-Nowak. A year ago, she had been in the same French classroom as Brooke at Blacksburg High.

I saw an interview with Austin&#39;s parents last night on NBC. They bravely faced the world through their tear-clouded eyes and reminded us all of how important it is to make good memories when you can, because, as her father said, "you never know when that&#39;s all you&#39;re going to have left."

Terri and Dave have talked with Brooke in recent days. Their question: "Are you sure you want to stay and go to school here?"

Her steely reply: "Now more than ever."

Thirty-two innocent lives, two degrees of separation. As I watched the chilling footage of Cho Seung-Hui&#39;s "multimedia manifesto" last night on NBC news, it occurred to me that we are all connected to this event, two degrees or not. Everyone, that is, except him.

For Cho Seung-Hui, who apparently wasn&#39;t connected to his own humanity much less that of his neighbor, the degrees of separation were infinite-a number so large as to be ultimately incomprehensible.

A number so large as to be ultimately fatal.

Dr. Michael Brown

2007-05-02

Dr. Michael Brown

eng

TechSportsBlog.com reaction to tragedy

The following article was originally published at HokieHaven.com: <a href="http://virginiatech.rivals.com/content.asp?CID=664661">http://virginiatech.rivals.com/content.asp?CID=664661</a>

It is also available at TechSportBlog.com:
<a href="http://www.techsportsblog.com/2007/04/17/virginia-tech-tragedy/">http://www.techsportsblog.com/2007/04/17/virginia-tech-tragedy/</a>

--

It&#39;s been awhile since my last blog post. Nearly a month, in fact. As a fan, I put a lot of time and energy rooting for my Virginia Hokies on the football field, then on the basketball court, and I needed a break. To get things going again, I was planning on a blog post title "The Off-Season" about how Hokie fans spend their time during the spring and summer before football starts anew in the fall.

Instead of writing about our fans and our football team, I am instead attempting to write about the tragedy that occurred yesterday on the campus of Virginia Tech. This is just a mere attempt, because it is very difficult to find the words to describe the feelings I have experienced since I learned of the magnitude of yesterday&#39;s events.

When I learned of the first shooting, and only one person was reported to have died, my initial thought was that some one got mad at his girlfriend. I was surprised, because shootings just don&#39;t happen in Blacksburg, but I wasn&#39;t shocked, because domestic violence happens all too often.

When the death toll went from 1 to over 20, I am not exactly sure what I felt. I was shocked, but I was also numb. During the early and mid-afternoon hours, it was a very surreal experience watching the story unfold on the internet. It was unfathomable to think that Virginia Tech would be the site of the deadliest shooting in U.S. history.

I went home from work at about 4pm, and I turned on the television. When I saw the images and heard the sounds of yesterday&#39;s events, it started to sink in. One image in particular hit home - it was a picture showing shocked students standing behind the glass doors of one of the entrances of McBryde Hall. I used to work for the Department of Computer Science at Virginia Tech, and my office was on the first floor of McBryde. I used to walk in and out of those doors on a daily basis. It was disheartening to see students watching the tragedy unfold from behind those very same doors.

Last night, my thoughts began to drift back to my days at Virginia Tech, both as a student and as a staff member. There was never a time where I felt unsafe walking around campus or around town. There was never a time where I felt unsafe inside a classroom. For today&#39;s students, they will not feel safe anywhere they go for a long time. I simply cannot imagine what it is like to be a student, faculty, or staff at Virginia Tech right now, let alone to be one of the wounded or one who knows a victim.

College campuses are special places. I like to think that the campus of Virginia Tech is extra special, but everyone feels that way about their alma mater. When I walked around Virginia Tech and Blacksburg during football or basketball weekends, I was reminded of so many good times I experienced during my time there, and I felt a disconnect from the strife of the "real world". There is a youthful innocence that pervades college campuses. It touches everyone there, from the 17 and 18 year old freshmen, to the 60 year old professors who only know life in academia.

Yesterday, that innocence was ripped from the hearts of every Hokie, and it was stolen away from anyone who has spent more than a minute on a college campus.

Since the hours that innocence was taken from us, the Hokie Nation has experienced disbelief, deep sadness, and anger. Many of us are still in shock, and it has started to sink in for others. For too many Hokies, a friend or loved one has fallen.

However, in every cloud there is a silver lining. We have seen an overwhelming outpouring of support from members and fans of other universities and colleges. I have been deeply moved by the well wishes I have seen on our Rivals.com HokieHaven board, TechSideline.com&#39;s Lounge board, as well as TheSabre.com&#39;s The Corner board. I am sure there are many other internet message boards that have similar threads voicing support for the Virginia Tech community.

On behalf of Virginia Tech and the Hokie Nation, I&#39;d like to say "thank you" for keeping our community in your thoughts and prayers. It is comforting to see the kinder and gentler side of the human spirit after such a horrific event.

Vincent Rivellino

2007-04-29

Vincent Rivellino

eng

A Difficult Time

I stopped watching all media on TV after Tuesday&#39;s convocation. I have not see the majority of the video played on NBC, but several of my VT alum friends told me about how disturbing it was. Personally, I think it would be too painful to watch.

The following is part of a blog post I wrote on Tuesday late night / Wednesday morning after the convocation.

----

Never in a million years did I think that I would see my alma mater on the news for such a horrific event. I&#39;m finding it difficult right now to gather my thoughts and process what happened on Monday morning at Virginia Tech. It seems ironic that on Sunday afternoon I was explaining to fellow UCSC students how Blacksburg is a little town in sleepy, Southwest Virginia that revolves around the university. Nearly the entire population attends or works at the university--over 26,000 students, probably 3,000 faculty and staff: a total population somewhere between 35,000-40,000. The professors and students form a close-knit, supportive community that I have never seen at the other universities I have attended or visited. Everything shuts down for home football games. The coffee shops, restaurants, and other local businesses revolve entirely around the academic calendar, parent/alumni weekends, and student schedules. Even the bus system is almost entirely students. I am part of this Virginia Tech community forever. Perhaps the best years of my life were spent there. The people I met, the professors that influenced me, the experiences that formed and shaped who I am today. Even though I haven&#39;t visited in two years or so, I am once a hokie and always a hokie.

Being at this campus at this time makes what happened at VT real and surreal for me. At first, I didn&#39;t know what to make of the situation--it took some time to process. But Tuesday, when I woke up and started reading about the victims and viewing the images... it became much more real. I had history class in the building where most of the murders took place. Many of my friends lived in the same dorms (West AJ and Harper) described. The pictures online and on TV of the buildings and campus I have so many fond memories of--so many images of police with guns, students wounded... It all really hit me when I saw the convocation on TV today--held in the same room where my graduation ceremony was held a few short years ago.

Immediately following the convocation today on TV, just as this was all sinking in, I had to go teach. I was disoriented and I think the students could tell. How am I supposed to focus on positive introductions when all I can think about is what my friends at Virginia Tech are going through? So far, no one I know has been idenitifed as a victim, though my friends at VT are traumatized. One of the victims may have gone to my high school and the one who survived by "playing dead" did go to my high school. The gunman went to high school a few miles away from my high school (Centreville is close to Fairfax, just a few miles West--both are suburbs of Washington, D.C.).

Tuesday it was very difficult walking around this campus where I felt like an outsider or stranger. Not many people seemed to relate closely to what happened on the other side of the country. While my fellow colleagues at VT, GMU, and in DC were mourning and holding vigils, people here were discussing parties on the bus. I don&#39;t know how to handle this right now. Where am I?

Amanda Shuman

2007-04-29

Amanda Shuman

eng

VT Tragedy - My Account

Originally posted April 16, 2007, 9:03 PM on bluegnu.livejournal.com
<a href="http://bluegnu.livejournal.com/16802.html">http://bluegnu.livejournal.com/16802.html</a>

The day started normal enough - slogged to campus and got to my office around 8:15 AM, and spent the next hour and a half prepping for the class I was scheduled to teach at 10:10 AM. I wasn&#39;t entirely enthusiastic about teaching, as the cold I had been fighting off over the weekend was still hanging on. Around 9:30 AM I got an e-mail indicating that there had been a shooting on campus earlier in the morning. The first message urged caution, and a second message sent around 9:50 AM indicated: "A gunman is loose on campus. Stay in buildings until further notice. Stay away from all windows."

However, I didn&#39;t get the second message before leaving my building (Major Williams Hall) to head over to class. I collected my stuff, dawdled around a bit, tried to compose myself to teach, and finally left the building just before 10 AM. As I exited my building I encountered a student who was coming in - I let him pass through the door first, and didn&#39;t pay much attention to the anxious look on his face. Students often look anxious. But now I have a better sense for why. As I walked the very short distance to Torgersen Hall, I immediately noticed large numbers of students standing around outside and a fair number of police officers on Stanger Street. At first I thought that perhaps Torgersen had been evacuated, especially after bomb threats had closed the building twice in just over a week.

But then I looked across the clearing toward Holden Hall (located directly next to Norris Hall) and saw a line of students running out of a building. It was clear that some sort of evacuation was underway, and as I walked I found myself unsure of whether to head back to my office or try to meet up with some of my students in our appointed classroom. I decided on the latter, and found roughly twenty students hanging out in the room. We chatted on and off for the next little while, especially as new tidbits of information came through over cell phones and the Internet. After 10 AM the building was entirely locked down, and one of the building managers came through to make sure that the one outside door in our room was secure. Students from other classes slowly trickled in, and at some time after 11 AM one student offered to use his account to display a live CNN feed on the room&#39;s large A/V system (this was a large lecture hall with something like 300 seats). Somehow the time passed along, with some students occasionally stepping out for food or bathroom breaks, others watching movies on their laptops, and still others relentlessly looking for information online.

When the word came around noon that the campus was being evacuated in stages - and that those in our building were free to leave so long as they moved away from central campus - the details we had were quite sketchy. Most reports had confirmed one fatality and as many as seven or eight injuries. Another CNN report was indicating that as many as 17 had been injured.

I wished well to a few students and headed back to my office to retrieve my laptop and my lunch. By this time I felt reasonably safe, as it seemed the worst had passed and the mayhem around the building had abated. I followed a small trail of faculty, staffers, and students as they made their way toward the Schulz parking lot, where I found my truck and started home. Just on the other side of Main Street I heard a report on the local college station, WUVT, that as many as 20 had been confirmed dead, at least according to a press conference. I was skeptical, shocked, and dazed, and after getting home found that this grim report was indeed true. Little did we know that the total number of fatalities would climb to 33 by the end of the day.

At this point, I am not aware of any close friends or colleagues who were in Norris Hall at the time of the shooting. But I have since learned that one faculty member, whose office I regularly walk by, was likely among the victims. I didn&#39;t know him, but it really is profoundly sad to think that I had seen him working away in his office just a few days prior. Tomorrow we will likely find out whether any of the students in our ~120 student class were among the victims. And then, of course, there may be victims among the many former students who I have had the privilege of working with. We are already starting to brace for when we must next set foot in the classroom and dealing with this tragedy. The remainder of the semester will not be easy here.

I know not what lies ahead, but hope that this community can come together and find some way forward, out of this mess. For those outside of the community, please be thinking of us. We need all of the positive energy you can spare.

--

UPDATE for April 16 Archive (4/25/07)

After the names and biographies of the deceased were released, I realized that I did know the German instructor. Jamie Bishop&#39;s office is two floors down from mine, and I first met him a year or two ago when we were both working in Torgersen Hall. In fact, we had many mutual colleagues over there. I didn&#39;t know him well, but I remember him as a kind and friendly individual. Learning that Jamie was among the victims made this tragedy that much more personal for me. My heart goes out to his family and friends.

Brent Jesiek

2007-04-25

Brent Jesiek

eng