I feel a sorrow for Highland Park, Illinois, and the victims of the mass shooting there at their July 4 parade. Highland Park was a paternal home place, where my dad grew up, where my great grandpa served as mayor twice, once in his twenties and again in mid-life, and where my younger sister lives with her husband today. My roots in Highland Park go back to grade school when I spent a week or two during four summers with my grandma there, when she’d take me on day trips and at night we’d watch Jack Parr and Groucho Marx on black and white TV. My memories are also of large family Thanksgivings with family coming in from other states. And now this murderous rampage in the setting of my childhood reveries. Preserve us all.