Today is, of course, the 6th anniversary of the Columbine High School shootings. I am surprised at how little press it's getting. It's always constantly somewhere in the Denver news circle. I normally would make no mention of it, because I'm quite honestly tired of hearing about it. So many media people use it to boost ratings. No one ever has anything important to say about it, and I hate to hear the memory of those people wasted. And I've seen more than 13 people murdered through the front window of my childhood home. It makes me a little calloused. Yet for some reason I got to thinking about that day this morning, and remembered sitting in the cafe that I was working at with an older man than has been coming to the cafe for 25 years.

His granddaughter went to Columbine. He sat at the counter, hunched over his coffee, with his head in his hands, silent. For hours. He didn't hear that she was OK until late that night. I have never felt such sadness for a stranger before. Granted, I knew him from the cafe, but I knew nothing about his life. I didn't even know he had a granddaughter.

I think everyone here has a 4/20 story. At least, I'm sure anyone could tell you right where they were. What a tragedy.