I remember the day that a little girl fell down a well and the world watched while she was rescued.
And the well got covered and the little girl grew up.
I remember when the Space Shuttle fell from the sky shortly after takeoff killing all the astronauts on board, including a school teacher who won a contest.
And the fleet was grounded for years while protocols were amended.
I remember when a group of miners was trapped underground and people all over the world held their collective breath until the very last one came to the surface.
And mining regulations changed.
I remember when evil hijacked the planes and the towers fell.
And we changed the way we check in and get screened at the airport, we went to war, and we hunted down the guilty party and made movies about the whole experience.
I remember when oil gushed beneath the Gulf of Mexico and people dove into the sea to escape the flames.
And the number of inspectors tripled, and audits of offshore oil rigs became more complicated.
I remember being in a classroom with junior high students watching on television as children in Littleton, CO ran from the building.
I remember Paducah, Tacoma, Knoxville, and the Amish children in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania.
I remember the night and weeks following Newtown and how we held each other and our children so much closer.
I remember people arguing about politics and guns and parenting and I remember politicians crying and celebrities offering thoughts and prayers.
But nothing changed.
So, now, seventeen more children and adults are dead, and the arguing has started all over again.
And parents everywhere wonder…
Will things be different this time?