By the time you read this, the images of that troubled young man with those two black guns will finally have faded into the background.

Funerals for those victims of the Virginia Tech massacre will probably all have been held, and we will have moved forward; resolving to do better, to be more aware, to remember the fallen...

We will have discussed every moment of this tragedy; we will have second-guessed the authorities who were on-site, with any number of finger-wagging and "should have"-type messages.

There is no doubt in my mind, as well, that numerous lawsuits will have been developed, with recriminations to be shared, all around.

People will no doubt, point those wagging fingers anywhere and everywhere. The old poem "Who Killed Cock Robin?" comes to mind. Above all, many, if not most people, will look at the killers who do these terrible types of things as being anomalies. Certainly there are not many of those types of people around...are there?

Then, we will start to discuss who "those people" could be.

In the witch trial days, many of "those people" were thought to have been possessed. They were dutifully burned, in the name of God.

In 1930's Germany, the Nazis went to great lengths to determine exactly who "those people" were. Some of the first victims of extermination were those with mental problems. Many of the institutionalized suffered lethal injections, so as not to be a burden to the Reich.

Even today, mental health professionals struggle with treatment options for "those people". Sometimes, perhaps even usually, treatments can be effective, and will result in productive lives.

And sometimes, not.

There's just one problem with the "those people" scenario.

It's a lie. We are those people.

The fact remains that at one time or another, virtually all of us come face to face with severe mental challenges. Whether with traumatic, life-changing experiences or circumstances, or in dealing with chronic illness, all of us are confronted at one point or another, with what Winston Churchill allegedly referred to as "the black dog" of depression--or perhaps, some other manifestation of mental illness. Ever feel that you absolutely HAD to step on every crack in the sidewalk? That's a mild type of obsessive/compulsive behavior. Ever get angry? Some feel even that to be a temporary insanity.

We are woefully unprepared for these moments, when they arrive. If there is one thing missing from our educations, it is a course on how to cope with life.

"Stop whining!" "Get it together!" "Be a man!" So many messages come to us, regarding the perception of mental weakness. Books and movies, time and again, refer to those with differences among us as being liabilities to society, worthy only of scorn and neglect.

We have even politicized the argument, with some on the Left professing a "societal blame" and some on the Right claiming that people have a pure and simple "choice" to be bad, or good.

Both sides, in my opinion, are all wet. Both sides assume rational thinking processes are at work, when in reality emotional thoughts often overshadow reason.

However surprising, some people certainly feel that being different is a punishment from God.

The truth is, it can be a gift.

Like the young man with the guns supposedly did, I had a speech problem. Like that young man was reported to have experienced, I too, endured bullies, and was made to feel like an outcast. Because I was deaf in one ear, and partly so in the other, I had preferential seating in classes. Teachers had to rearrange their alphabetical seating charts for me--and some of them resented making that adjustment. Having hearing, walking, and vision problems made me less than desirable as a sports participant as well. Before being excused from them, my gym classes represented the pits of Hell to my pre-teen psyche.

How easy it would have been, had I not had good parental support and a firm grounding in faith and morals, for me to have permitted resentments and hurts to fester into a sociopathic rage.

Instead, through nothing less than the Grace of God, I became an overachiever. Through music and the arts, I found creative outlets for whatever negativity had started to bubble up in the cauldron of my soul.

I learned to fight constructively, rather than destructively.

I became an advocate for the rights of people with serious differences (which sooner or later, includes everyone). I began to fight for those who lacked the courage, the will, or the ability to fight for themselves. I fought for the rights of Native Americans, and for those missing in action in Vietnam. I became a vocal and aggressive advocate for peace as well--not just concerning battlefields overseas, but in our own minds and souls.

When I think of that troubled young man, I know that nothing can ever excuse what happened.

I also know that there, but for the Grace of God, could have stood any one of us.

As we move forward, let's look around in our own circles. Who needs a helping hand? A pat on the back? A word of encouragement? When we see bullying or hear put-downs, how will we resolve to handle these things in the future? Will we allow the problems to continue, or will we step in and be the difference in a person's life, that might just keep them from stepping off into the abyss?

As a final thought on this matter...those differences I had that were so significant in my youth...glasses, speech, hearing, leg problems? None of them matter at all in my writing...