mook3y
12-13-2007, 12:36 PM
I am sure all of you heard about the horrible tragedy at the Omaha Mall.
It has been a difficult week for me as one of the members of my group in a class at UNL lost his father in this tragedy. Over the semester, we have become friends.
Anyways, I wanted to share with all of you an interview that he did yesterday with the local newspaper, Journal Star here in Lincoln.
Steve is an inspiring person and really gives me renewed hope in our future generations.
From Journal Stars website:
"While the rest of us wring our hands, wondering what to do about senseless shootings in schools and churches and shopping malls, a 19-year-old has a few ideas.
This young man with sandy hair and his father’s smile seems far older. Far wiser.
He’s always been mature for his age, the college sophomore admits over a cup of coffee, two days after he buried his dad, Gary Scharf. A week after the Lincoln man was killed by a 19-year-old with an assault rifle and a long history of psychiatric woes.
Two 19-year-olds. One dead. One living with the consequences of the other’s actions.
Steve Scharf brings a folded sheet of paper with him to the interview.
He has things he wants to say. Points to make. Some of this he’s said before to the reporters with microphones and notebooks who came calling last week.
But it’s important to say again.
“Added security is not the answer. That’s treating the symptom, not the cause.”
As the flowers started arriving, and as people began to reach out, Steve’s family made a decision.
They decided his dad’s memorial money would go to TeamMates, the mentoring organization started by former Husker football coach Tom Osborne.
Nebraska spent almost $300,000 trying to help the young man who shot his dad and seven others last week at Von Maur in Omaha. It didn’t work, Steve says.
He knows not everyone can be saved.
“We spend all this money, but maybe what kids really need is someone to guide them.”
TeamMates made sense for lots of reasons, he said. It’s local, it’s legitimate, it’s appropriate.
And one more.
“Dad loved TO.”
For the first time, the son shows his dimples, telling the story of his dad’s disappointment when Osborne failed to win the race for governor.
People keep asking if there is anything they can do to help.
And Steve keeps thinking about the kids who feel alone, on the fringes.
Have your kids sit by the kid who’s sitting alone in the lunchroom, he says. Don’t buy them that violent video game for Christmas.
And, oh, he has the TeamMates number written on his folded sheet of paper — (402) 323-6252 — if anyone is interested.
He wrote down an Osborne quote from its Web site: “Our young people face different challenges today that affect them personally. If we are going to make a difference, we have to get involved with them as one to one mentors.”
Steve plans to sign up.
And he has another plan. Steve spent five months as a page in the Legislature last year. His dad knew U.S. Rep. Jeff Fortenberry. When things settle down, he’s going to make some phone calls.
“Dad was a hunter and he used guns, but he still thought it was a little bit ridiculous that people had assault rifles.”
His son thinks it would be a good idea do something to “limit the availability of large scale ammunition” for those kinds of weapons.
Steve is majoring in journalism at UNL. He’d like to go to law school, become a military lawyer.
Now he’s navigating a new world.
The day before his dad died, they had their picture taken together. Then they had lunch and talked.
“It seemed like any other day, except it was better.”
Seven minutes before his dad died, Steve had extra time between classes. He made a phone call.
His dad answered. He was shopping. They talked about Steve’s finals schedule, his wisdom teeth that needed to come out.
The son told his father he loved him.
The father told his son the same.
The next day, Steve wasn’t in class to give the speech he’d written. He was going to talk about boxes. The way we go from one box to the next — house, garage, car, office — missing connections to other people.
“Dad and I we talked about that … We talked about the suburbs, how people aren’t connected the way they should be.”
We need to do a better job, he says. We can’t save everyone, but we can try.
He finishes his coffee, goes back for a refill.
A 19-year-old without a father, offering the rest of us a way to do more than wring our hands and wonder."
It has been a difficult week for me as one of the members of my group in a class at UNL lost his father in this tragedy. Over the semester, we have become friends.
Anyways, I wanted to share with all of you an interview that he did yesterday with the local newspaper, Journal Star here in Lincoln.
Steve is an inspiring person and really gives me renewed hope in our future generations.
From Journal Stars website:
"While the rest of us wring our hands, wondering what to do about senseless shootings in schools and churches and shopping malls, a 19-year-old has a few ideas.
This young man with sandy hair and his father’s smile seems far older. Far wiser.
He’s always been mature for his age, the college sophomore admits over a cup of coffee, two days after he buried his dad, Gary Scharf. A week after the Lincoln man was killed by a 19-year-old with an assault rifle and a long history of psychiatric woes.
Two 19-year-olds. One dead. One living with the consequences of the other’s actions.
Steve Scharf brings a folded sheet of paper with him to the interview.
He has things he wants to say. Points to make. Some of this he’s said before to the reporters with microphones and notebooks who came calling last week.
But it’s important to say again.
“Added security is not the answer. That’s treating the symptom, not the cause.”
As the flowers started arriving, and as people began to reach out, Steve’s family made a decision.
They decided his dad’s memorial money would go to TeamMates, the mentoring organization started by former Husker football coach Tom Osborne.
Nebraska spent almost $300,000 trying to help the young man who shot his dad and seven others last week at Von Maur in Omaha. It didn’t work, Steve says.
He knows not everyone can be saved.
“We spend all this money, but maybe what kids really need is someone to guide them.”
TeamMates made sense for lots of reasons, he said. It’s local, it’s legitimate, it’s appropriate.
And one more.
“Dad loved TO.”
For the first time, the son shows his dimples, telling the story of his dad’s disappointment when Osborne failed to win the race for governor.
People keep asking if there is anything they can do to help.
And Steve keeps thinking about the kids who feel alone, on the fringes.
Have your kids sit by the kid who’s sitting alone in the lunchroom, he says. Don’t buy them that violent video game for Christmas.
And, oh, he has the TeamMates number written on his folded sheet of paper — (402) 323-6252 — if anyone is interested.
He wrote down an Osborne quote from its Web site: “Our young people face different challenges today that affect them personally. If we are going to make a difference, we have to get involved with them as one to one mentors.”
Steve plans to sign up.
And he has another plan. Steve spent five months as a page in the Legislature last year. His dad knew U.S. Rep. Jeff Fortenberry. When things settle down, he’s going to make some phone calls.
“Dad was a hunter and he used guns, but he still thought it was a little bit ridiculous that people had assault rifles.”
His son thinks it would be a good idea do something to “limit the availability of large scale ammunition” for those kinds of weapons.
Steve is majoring in journalism at UNL. He’d like to go to law school, become a military lawyer.
Now he’s navigating a new world.
The day before his dad died, they had their picture taken together. Then they had lunch and talked.
“It seemed like any other day, except it was better.”
Seven minutes before his dad died, Steve had extra time between classes. He made a phone call.
His dad answered. He was shopping. They talked about Steve’s finals schedule, his wisdom teeth that needed to come out.
The son told his father he loved him.
The father told his son the same.
The next day, Steve wasn’t in class to give the speech he’d written. He was going to talk about boxes. The way we go from one box to the next — house, garage, car, office — missing connections to other people.
“Dad and I we talked about that … We talked about the suburbs, how people aren’t connected the way they should be.”
We need to do a better job, he says. We can’t save everyone, but we can try.
He finishes his coffee, goes back for a refill.
A 19-year-old without a father, offering the rest of us a way to do more than wring our hands and wonder."