On a Tragic Anniversary, Turning Off the News Last year, at this time, we were listening to a lot of holiday music on the radio in the car. That in itself isn't unusual, but the reason for it was: I was avoiding, for my children's" sake and my own, too much of the story of the terrible Newtown shootings that killed 26 people on Dec. 14, 2012. It's one thing, and the right thing, to acknowledge, to grieve for others, to consider how to prevent mass shootings in the future. It's another to dwell in others" tragedy and make it your own, or to focus largely on the way it affects you and your family. For me, too much news makes the latter too likely, and my kids knew what they needed to know, and no more. It seemed best to keep it that way. And so, holiday music. But this year, we're still mixing our holiday music with the usual dose of NPR, and my older two children (12 and 9) are often listening, questioning and absorbing. The demand from the back seat earlier this week took me by surprise. Can you turn off NPR? I hate NPR! Such was the tone of the request that I turned off the radio altogether, and there was a silence while I thought back over the news items I had half-heard in the minute or so since we left the hockey rink. After a minute, I asked my 9-year-old (the only child in the car) whether she was just bored by the budget discussion or whether she was upset by something she had heard. They said someone shot 20 children in a school - 20 children and 6 adults. That was last year, I said. Last year. Do you remember? We talked about it. She didn't remember. This is why we do the lockdown drill. In case someone comes into our school. Unlikely, I promised. But it happened, she said, and if it does, what am I supposed to do? I did my best with that, but what she ultimately found most comforting was that this happened in Connecticut, a long way, in her mind, from here. What followed was a good conversation about some of her other fears (a house fire, her sister sleeping though the fire alarm) and, on my part, a resolution to return to holiday music for us this weekend. We can't, and shouldn't, avoid all mention of horrors and tragedy for our children. I'm not sorry that my daughter and I talked. Sometimes the worst of the world forces itself in, and if this intrusion is as bad as it gets, I can only be grateful. But we can choose where we let our minds dwell, and what we invite in. No adult could possibly forget what happened at this time last year. But if our younger children can, the best gift we can give them is to let them let this anniversary pass unmarked.