What the Orlando shooting taught me about how non-journalists deal with tragedy

I live in Orlando.

Today was the first time in my adult life that there’s been a huge breaking news event in my backyard (the shooting was less than two miles from my house) and I haven’t had to cover it.

The only thing I’ve ever done in response to tragedy was work – from 9/11 when I was in DC, to the 2004 hurricanes when I was in Florida, to the Aurora theater shooting and deadly fires and floods when I was in Colorado.

Today, I found out what everybody else does in response to tragedy. They sit. They watch. They feel helpless. They watch some more. And then, they come together.

I sat in my house for ten hours today watching and listening to wall-to-wall coverage, taking notes on press briefings and live Tweeting updates. Because even though I don’t work for a news outlet anymore, that’s all I knew to do.

This evening, I had to decide whether to go to a “Swanky Sixties Cocktail Party” that a group of my good friends had been planning for weeks. The hosts asked the group on Facebook whether people thought it was appropriate to go forward with the event. The group collectively decided that, today more than ever, it was important to celebrate life and love and friendship.

I agreed with them.

I realized I wasn’t doing anybody any good watching rolling coverage in my living room, so, while I felt a little weird about it, I donned a cocktail dress and pearls and headed out. But I still wouldn’t agree to be in this great Facebook photo of everyone in their Swanky Sixties attire.