Proximity

A CBC News photo from Gilmour Street

Awaking to two texts from one's daughter in Ottawa, saying she's safe, but shaken, is an effective way to banish sleepiness in a hurry.

She's safe? Wait a minute. She was in danger?

I quickly checked my newsfeeds, and learned there had been a shooting this morning, on Gilmour Street in downtown Ottawa. This is two blocks north of elder daughter's office.

At 7:30 am EST, elder daughter had not yet left her apartment, a ten-minute walk away. Police had cordoned areas off, and her office wasn't fully operational for another couple of hours. In the interim, the now ever-present barrage of fuzzy social media reports: "Multiple victims" "Active shooter" "Suspect at large" Rather like that ghastly October morning five years ago, when no one knew what was happening, and terror froze everything.

It seems to have been at an Airbnb. Four young men, unknown to the surrounding neighbours: one dead, three seriously injured, including a fifteen-year-old. The neighbours suspect a gang incident. The police are describing it as a "targeted attack", which apparently means everyone else is safe. Really?

This is on top of the agonizing ripples of bereavement affecting nearly every sizeable city across Canada, as the identities of the sixty or so Canadians aboard last night's doomed flight out of Iran are revealed.

My daughter told me she was safe this morning. So many families can't say that this evening.