On Friday morning I found myself delving into a big week for New York sports. It was a beautiful, brisk day in New York and I was ready to discuss Braylon Edwards' return to the Jets, Kevin Youkilis's signing with the Yankees, and the masterful way the Knicks beat both the Nets and the Heat within days of each other. And then tragedy struck. As I sat at my desk, I watched as Newtown, Connecticut went from a relatively unknown town to a household name. I turned on the news, and like much of the nation, found myself glued to the details as they very slowly emerged from the Sandy Hook Elementary School. I prayed that the earliest reports of very few injuries would hold true. Unfortunately, as more information became available, the truth was worse than anything we could have ever imagined. An armed gunman entered a kindergarten through fourth grade school and opened fire on our nation's most innocent and vibrant children and those who made it their life's work to educate, love, and mentor them. Today, as I finally have my thoughts together and enough information is available to paint a relatively clear picture of the day's events, I feel it is my duty as a journalist, a former preschool teacher, and an American, to honor the twenty-seven people who were stolen from this Earth and their families far before their time.
