Run, Hide, Fight: How Threats of Mass Shootings Have Changed My Life

Hi Joel,

I’m writing this on a Friday to publish it on our blog on Sunday, which will be a week since the last major mass shooting (as opposed to the run-of-the-mill mass shooting) in America, unless of course there is one between now and Sunday, which is absolutely possible.

CNN commentator Mel Robbins argued persuasively this week that we don’t “give a damn” about mass shootings because, really, they don’t affect most of us. In fact, watching them from a distance can actually convince us that we, personally, will never face one. When one happens and we aren’t the person dead or the one holding the body of a loved one but only know of it, we experience a “near miss” that confirms that we are invincible. The issue is, she says, that eventually, we all will be affected. At the rate we’re going, eventually, all of us will know someone who has a first hand experience with a mass shooter. Then we’ll care–but why wait that long? Why allow that much suffering? Why permit that much violence and injury and death? Eventually, we’ll have to stop it–or we’ll all be dead or prisoners in our own homes.


It was not my first experience with a shooter that changed how I go about my daily life, and, in fact, it was not the worst experience, by far.

It was my third time of sheltering in place. It was the eighth such event that scared or hurt or killed people I love.

By February of 2015, I had taught students who had witnessed the Columbine shooting and worked with colleagues suffering from PTSD related to Virginia Tech. My friends include physicians who served in ERs when “Code Yellow”–a mass casualty–was announced and the bodies of schoolchildren started arriving by ambulance and helicopter. I love and support pastors, coroners, and funeral home directors who do the almost impossible work of preparing a community for a dozen funerals over a few days. I teach in a town where one of the earliest school shootings–and the one committed by the youngest assailant–happened, and so I have taught and taught alongside many survivors of that experience, including people who saw their friends and teacher killed. And the Nickel Mines Amish schoolhouse shooting, just a few minutes walk from my own childhood church, changed the course of my research and, in no small way, my orientation toward suffering.

We had lived through an on-campus gunman the December previous. A disgruntled former student–a white man, unsurprisingly, with anti-government views–drove his truck to the middle of the green, armed and, he said, ready to blow up the vehicle. Everyone sheltered in place, including my younger son, who was asleep in the campus childcare center at the time. For some of our students, this was a reminder of the 1998 Westside School shooting. Imagine that–getting to live through two incidents. “This is the price of freedom,” as Bill O’Reilly said after the Las Vegas massacre last month. Freedom is not free, and it looks like school children and college students will be the ones to pay for it.

Thankfully, the gunman was eventually persuaded to lay down his weapon. No one was hurt–I mean, except for the students locked in a supply closet for two hours, trying to figure out when, exactly they should run, when they should hide, and when they should fight (the three keys to escaping a mass shooter). And the people who had to relive the Westside shooting in that moment. And the many of us teachers who had to worry about restraining those students in our classrooms who we suspect are armed. Oh, and the campus police officers. And… well, so, really, lots of us were harmed.

But it wasn’t even that one, when I didn’t know where on campus the shooter was and the childcare center was a reasonable guess (because poor women with angry, violent ex-husbands work in the low-wage early childhood education field), that did me in.


That February morning, I had attended church services without my family. As I was turning onto the road to our cruddy little house on campus, police cars raced by me–not one or two, but lots of them. Ahead, police lights lit up the neighborhood. I should have kept driving–Run! is the first and most effective survival strategy–, but my husband and children were at home, the older two playing in the yard. I don’t want us to go down together, but I’d prefer it to them going down without me.

By the time I pulled into the drive, everyone was inside. My oldest was in the bathtub, the safest spot in the most interior room of the house. He’d lined it with a quilt and brought in several pillows and was reading a book from a pile he’d stacked up next to the tub, just in case the house-to-house sweep took a few hours. His sister set on the floor, crammed between the wall and the toilet, coloring. I wondered if kids in Mosul or Aleppo or Kashmir were so casual. Bombing, of course, is different from firearms. Our concerns were mostly about bullets or, in a worst-case scenario, a hostage situation, not drone warfare.

When I opened the door, our youngest was in his undies. (It was Sunday, so even the undies were not guaranteed for the three-year-old.) By the time we gathered in the bathroom, he was dressed.

Like this:Captain AmericaAbove, my littlest wears his Captain America costume, complete with fake muscles.

“It’s okay, Mommy,” he assured me. “I’m brave!” And that, for me, was it–watching my preschooler put on bravery in the form of a costume.


We moved off campus shortly after that. Sooner than later, everyone in higher education will know that they know someone affected by a campus shooting. (Very likely, most of us already know someone but may not realize it.) I didn’t need to increase our odds by living on campus.

And then came the other prices of freedom.

  • I requested that more of my work duties be placed online. When being in the office is necessary, I shift my hours to the early morning or evening, when fewer people are present.
  • I don’t teach in classrooms at the top of the stairs or the first floor of the building. None of those beautiful classrooms with lovely glass walls.
  • I lock the door of my classroom so that students are able to leave but no one is able to enter. I let students know that if they must leave, they should take all their items with them and not return. I let them know that if there is an alert of a gunman on campus and they are outside the door, I will not open it.
  • I have purchased a fire extinguisher for my classrooms and my office. If you have run and have hid but now need to fight, they are a useful resource. You don’t have to have good aim, but you may be able to distract a shooter from 8-10 feet away.
  • I avoid going to campus at the same time as my academic spouse. If we must go at the same time, I try to stay in separate buildings. Sometimes he wants to each lunch together on campus. I decline. We work together in his office sometimes, but I worry the whole time. I’m somewhat reassured by its location: the end of the hall, so we’ll hear any shots that start elsewhere in the building, but there is no exit. We don’t go to the same public events on campus. If my children are going to lose a parent, they don’t have to lose both.
  • In all my classes, we review the active shooter plan: where we run, where we hide, how we fight. We talk about who has a right to have a gun on campus and what they need to think about before they draw it.
  • I monitor my students carefully, and I intervene frequently. I’m probably not going to be killed by one of my students. It’s going to be the boyfriend who gave her that black eye.
  • We don’t go to the mall. Or to Wal-Mart. Or Chuck E. Cheese, which is stressful enough without angry co-parents fighting about how Dad doesn’t give Junior his ADHD medicine during the child’s stay because he doesn’t believe in it. Netflix and Amazon Prime are acts of of self-defense.
  • I don’t just know if my children’s friends’ parents own guns. I also know how long they’ve been married or divorced and if their ex-spouses are happily resettled. Kids with messy custody arrangements can play at our house, but we won’t meet them out in public.
  • I’m always on the lookout for who doesn’t belong. The adult sitting in the McDonald’s PlayLand. The guy with a coat on in summer. Anyone with a raised voice in public. Obviously, anyone we see open carrying and anyone we see concealed carrying. Leave the cart with the groceries in it, kids. We run.
  • This year, my youngest could have entered kindergarten at the same elementary school where my daughter attends. Instead, I chose for him to attend a private kindergarten–not because it’s safer but because it distributes my children over more space. It’s a hassle to get three kids to three different schools and to invest in each of those school communities, but I’m not going to lose two of my children in the same school shooting. Captain American will start the local elementary school when his big sister enters junior high and her brother is safely in high school.

And, in the end, none of these things will necessarily save our lives.


Can Republicans connect their party’s misogyny to their candidates’ violence against women and children?

Hi Joel,

You might think me uncharitable, but I don’t believe Senator Jeff Flake’s shock that his party is supporting child molester Roy Moore. Flake wondered on Twitter today, “Is this who we are? This cannot be who we are.”

Screen Shot 2017-11-10 at 12.10.34 PM

Above, Senator Flake’s either naive or disingenuous Tweet wondering how a party that elected a man who said he likes to grab women by their genitals could possibly support a man who grabs girls by their genitals. Oh, I know that Flake sees that Trump is vile. But Flake still supports a party that codifies laws that hurt women and children, and he has benefitted from the same misogyny that got Trump into office. 

Senator Flake: This is who the Republican Party has been for a long time.

Note: I’m not saying that Dems don’t make excuses for the crimes of their own. I’m saying that, for Republicans, violence against women and children and other vulnerable people is a commitment. It’s part of their party platform. It’s the result of their policies. Why in the world would you expect them to be outraged at personal behavior that aligns with their politics, which consistently say that powerful men should have control over weaker people? In fact, according to Donald Trump says that powerful people taking advantage of weaker ones is EXACTLY how people should act.

Flake has long been invested in the idea that Trump isn’t representative of his party. And I do think that Trump has brought out the worst in conservatives. He hasn’t simply revealed how deplorable so many of them are but has also fostered hatred in them. But it wouldn’t have worked if Republicans hadn’t, since at least Nixon, been overtly waging a war on the vulnerable, and Flake has been a part of that.

Don’t believe me?

Why did a Republican-led Congress allow health insurance for America’s needy children to expire?

Why does the House’s proposed tax bill eliminate deductions that support families, like the personal exemption (which will hurt large families), the deduction for child care, and the deduction for tuition interest?

Why won’t Republican governors or legislatures ban child marriage in their states? (Hint: it’s at least in part because they justify it on religious grounds, just like Moore’s supporters in Alabama do.)

Why do we have 50,000 children in youth prisons (and even more in adult prisons) on any given day? Why do they pretend to care so much about the state of black families but incarcerate black men at such high rates?

Why do Republican-led states spend so much less on public education for children?

Why do Republicans continue to work against women’s health care? I’m not even talking about abortion–I’m talking about access to safe and reliable contraception, prenatal care, breast pumps, and maternity leave that allows women to heal from delivery and bond with their children.

Why do Republicans make excuses for rapists?

Why do they allow police officers who kill children of color to go unpunished?

Or maybe this question will suffice:

Mass shootings are clearly linked to domestic violence: entitled men who feel that they have the right to control women and who lash out when that power is threatened. Because mass shooters often target women, they occur in settings where women and children are more likely to be: schools, churches, daycare centers.

Why won’t Republicans do anything at all to stop violence that disproportionately kills women and children?

Screen Shot 2017-11-10 at 12.43.14 PM

Above, the explosion of gun manufacturing in the US over the past 8 years. And, yes, Republicans have disproportionately benefited from donations from the gun lobby and so have every little incentive to curtail the number of guns made or sold in the US. 

To be fair, Senator Flake is working to keep guns out of the hands of known abusers, which is hardly a heroic position to take if you think that men who crack their children’s skulls forfeit their right to bear arms. And, like his handwringing about conservative defenses of child molestation, it’s a little late. The number of guns manufactured in the US has doubled in the last 8 years. You simply can’t put a gun for every single person in America–including the more than 33,000 who will die by gun this year–into the marketplace and expect that violence won’t happen.

Republicans are quite willing to let those deaths happen. They–the lives of pregnant women, babies, and kindergartners–are the cost of freedom. That is, freedom for men to own guns. The costs to women–our lives, our safety, our babies–isn’t even part of their math.

If Republicans won’t protect women from mass murderers, why would we expect them to protect us from sexual assault?









Will Republicans defend a child sex abuser? Will Alabama evangelicals?

Dear Joel,

Mark it down: the day that Roy Moore and I agree on something–in this case, that people whose religion allows for pedophilia and other forms of sexual abuse shouldn’t get to serve in Congress.

Let’s hope the good Christians of Alabama agree.



Moore met one of his victims when she worked as one of Santa’s elves at the local shopping mall. She was 14 at the time, though Moore did not begin to victimize her until she was 16.  My letter to St. Nicholas this year: “Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas is for Republicans to stop comparing Joseph to a child molester, and also for Roy Moore to be crushed by a fallen Ten Commandments statue. And please make powerful men stop assaulting others.” 

Men: Perhaps it’s time for collective repentance

Redux: The spotlight is getting hot, isn’t it?

Dear Rebecca:


While reporting a story in Alabama about supporters of Moore’s Senate campaign, a Post reporter heard that Moore allegedly had sought relationships with teenage girls. Over the ensuing three weeks, two Post reporters contacted and interviewed the four women. All were initially reluctant to speak publicly but chose to do so after multiple interviews, saying they thought it was important for people to know about their interactions with Moore. The women say they don’t know one another.

…it’s turning out to be

A fifth woman, who spoke on condition of anonymity to protect her family’s privacy because she has not been publicly linked to the incident with Louis C.K., also has disturbing memories about an incident with the comedian. In the late ’90s, she was working in production at “The Chris Rock Show” when Louis C.K., a writer and producer there, repeatedly asked her to watch him masturbate, she said. She was in her early 20s and went along with his request, but later questioned his behavior.

quite a day:

In my presence, Wieseltier told the higher-ups that his marriage was a happy one, that he had no reason to be untoward. Of that night, he said we had merely “shared” a kiss. I remember that word. It was so breezy. It was so easy. It was so nothing. It was practically a lark.

I don’t remember speaking. I certainly don’t remember challenging it. I began to question myself, in that room, in that moment, a doubt that stayed with me for years. That was his version of events. At the time, and for a long time after, I wrestled with how I might have responded. What could I do? What was real, after all? Wasn’t this, too, a version of reality?

I am not equal to it. I am sorry for what so many women go through routinely. After that, it’s time for me to shut up.


Update: Racist Graffiti at K-State Deemed a Hoax

Hi Joel,

Good news: that racist graffiti I wrote about last week at K-State? Looks like it didn’t happen. Or, rather, a young black man’s car was graffitied with racist language, but it appears that he did it himself as part of a Halloween prank that got out of hand.

It’s not the first time this kind of situation has happened. Within the last two weeks, an African American man was arrested for spray painting racist graffiti on Eastern Michigan University’s campus. Last year, a black man who was a member of Hopewell Missionary Baptist Church in Greenville, Mississippi, spray painted “Support Trump” on the church before setting it ablaze. And arsons at black churches in St. Louis in 2015 were attributed to an African American man.  Screen Shot 2017-11-02 at 10.08.27 AM

Above, racist graffiti a young man in Manhattan, Kansas, spray painted on his own car. 

Right-wing media loves these stories. They seem to prove white innocence and make a mockery of those white people who work for social justice. What a bunch of fools! They call for a genteel kind of “racial realism”–black people (or immigrants or Jews or Muslims or queer people or women) pretend to be victims, but it’s all just a ploy. Every apparent hate crime looks like it was probably committed “people on the other side,” as Trump said about the desecration of Jewish sacred spaces during and since his election.

I don’t get it. I don’t understand why Dauntarius Williams graffitied his own car with anti-black language. I don’t understand why “Jackie” told a reporter from Rolling Stone that she was raped at the University of Virginia when she was not–or, rather, she was not a victim as described in that article.

But I also don’t occupy their bodies. I don’t know what it’s like to be in a population that is likely to be targeted for hate crime. As a white person, racism only ever benefits me. I don’t have to worry about how to withstand it or how to teach my children not to internalize racism, homophobia, or anti-Semitism. I’m not asked to renounce white people or made to feel required to express embarrassment when white people commit crimes against other white people. (Though, as a woman, I am always told to doubt my own interpretation of assaults on my body and my dignity. I must have heard wrong. I must have felt something that didn’t happen. It must have meant something else than what I thought it meant. If I’m not out-and-out lying, then I’m mistaken.)

As a economically privileged person I don’t feel the frustration of people ignoring crimes and other injustices against me or people like me. When I seek recourse through the justice system, I get it. I don’t have to step outside the law to vent my frustrations or get what I deserve because I can do those things safely within the law and still be respected. It’s what everyone deserves, of course, and when we don’t all have it, we can expect hoaxes, as demoralizing as they are, like the one at K-State to happen.


Book excerpt: The long struggle between patriotism and pacifism at Tabor College


Dear Rebecca:

When I brought up Tabor College’s spat over having athletes stand for the anthem, I neglected to mention that such struggles are nothing new in the college’s history. I entered Tabor in fall of 1991, just a few months after the First Gulf War had concluded.  The residual tensions between the pacifists and the pacifists lingered freshly at that point.

But I had no idea how much that struggle practically defines Tabor’s history — until we heard from historian James Juhnke. He graciously sent along an excerpt of his 2016 book,   A People of Two Kingdoms II, Stories of Kansas Mennonites in Politicswhich describes an earlier incident. The two volumes of his work together tell “the story of Mennonite political acculturation in Kansas,” he writes. The excerpt here is reprinted with his permission.




Hillsboro and Tabor College.   The town of Hillsboro, population about three thousand, outdid all other towns of south central Kansas in bicentennial celebrations in 1976.  Governor John Carlin of Kansas designated Hillsboro an official “Bicentennial Town.”   Hillsboro’s civic leaders managed to attract two nationally-sponsored exhibitions—an “Official Bicentennial Wagon Train” in March and the “Armed Forces Bicentennial Caravan” in October.  The Bicentennial Wagon Train was one of several in the country that traversed historic national trails and converged at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, on July 4.   The Hillsboro Star-Journal estimated that five thousand people attended the Main-Street parade, and some four thousand stayed for the evening program in Memorial Park for a program that included a choral group from Pennsylvania University.[i]   The Wagon Train had national corporate sponsorship, but the Armed Forces Bicentennial Caravan was a public relations project for the U. S. Department of Defense.[ii]

In addition, the local Hillsboro Bicentennial Commission, co-chaired by Carol Wiebe and Ray Baker, organized its own Memorial Day “Bicentennial Birthday Celebration” on May 29.   The parade included a 13-man military color guard from Fort Riley, American Legion members and the Boy Scouts.  Garner Shriver, fourth-district congressman, spoke at the dedication of a new civic center.   Golfers participated in a bicentennial golf tournament, one of many community events.   The Hillsboro Star-Journal, published a special 24-page issue, including a “Special Bicentennial Section.”   On the first page were illustrations of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, of Independence Hall, of a fife and drum corps, of a patriot lighting a cannon to shoot ships in the harbor, and of a Betsy Ross sewing thirteen stars onto an American flag. [iii]

The Mennonites of Hillsboro had mixed reactions to the bicentennial celebrations.  One enthusiastic supporter was Elmer W. Flaming, president of the First National Bank and leading member of the Parkview Mennonite Brethren church.   Annoyed by articles in the MB denominational periodical, The Christian Leader, that were critical of American civil religion, Flaming wrote an essay titled “Why Celebrate the Bicentennial.”   He said, “The Declaration of Independence is the official and unequivocal recognition by the American people of their belief and faith in God.  It is a religious document from the first sentence to the last.  It affirms God’s existence as self-evident truth which requires no further discussion or debate.  The nation it creates is God’s country.”  For Flaming the bicentennial celebrations represented “our opportunity and challenge to revive America with an injection of the same religious faith and dedication that brought about the birth of a great nation.”[iv]

On the opposite side were some teachers and students at Tabor College, located a few blocks south and east of the center of town.   Tabor was wrestling with its identity as a Mennonite Christian liberal arts college.  One new faculty member who arrived at Tabor in January 1976 found Tabor to be a “hornet’s nest” of controversy.[v]  At the center of debate were a number of young idealistic faculty members who urged Tabor to become a distinctively Anabaptist Christian school with a strong peace emphasis.   On the other side were teachers and administrators who promoted a conservative evangelical identity that would attract more students of non-Mennonite background.   Students in a college forum presentation identified the parties as “the pacifists versus the patriots.  The alleged Mennonite ethnicists versus Protestantism.”[vi]  One label for the idealists was “radical neo-Anabaptists.”[vii]

In the fall of 1975 the Tabor College homecoming committee decided on a bicentennial theme, “Highlights of History,” for the homecoming parade.   The committee invited student groups to create floats portraying events from America’s past.   Some students and teachers of “neo-Anabaptist” persuasion protested.  The student Christian Fellowship Association (CFA), led by Curt Kuhns and Gordon Zerbe, decided to boycott the parade, asking “whether we as a Christian college could celebrate a government that was established by the overthrow of another, has a long history of war, and where so many things are not of God.” [viii]   Don Ratzlaff, editor of the student paper, critiqued the CFA’s decision:  “At a time when our country needs a moral shot in the arm, CFA proposes we give it a mortal shot in the head.  America is in dire need of a Christian influence, not a Christian cop-out.”[ix]

A year later, in October 1976, the neo-Anabaptist group at Tabor mobilized a public protest when the most militaristic of Hillsboro’s bicentennial events, the Armed Forces Bicentennial Caravan, came to town.  The caravan consisted of four large semi-truck trailers that contained museum displays for the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines, “recounting the contributions made to America by her armed forces.”   An Army spokesman for the display said it was not a recruiting program, but rather “a concerted effort by the Armed Forces to bring the American Revolution Bicentennial closer to the people of Hillsboro and the surrounding communities.”[x]   In the Air Force Van, said the promotion, “Fifteen projectors and more than 700 slides are used simultaneously in the 17-minute show to highlight the Air Force’s role in aviation in its early stages, during the two world wars, in space research and in today’s world.”   The Defense Department was spending a lot of money to refurbish its reputation tarnished by defeat in the Vietnam War.

The Tabor College protesters decided to set up a counter-military display, deliberately crude and low-tech to contrast with the sophisticated and expensive military caravan museums.  For a display table for peace literature they rolled in a large wooden utility-wire frame and tipped it on its side.  They parked their bicycles in front of the gas-guzzling military semi trailers, and put up a sign, “CHRISTIANS ARE CONCERNED, HAS WAR EVER MADE PEACE?”  Visitors to the peace display engaged the protestors in friendly as well as hostile conversation.  At his noon break, a young mechanic from the nearby Ford Company came to argue that the military forces celebrated in the Caravan museums were the reason the protesters had the right to free speech.  K. B. Bruce, editor of the Hillsboro Star-Journal, made the same point editorially: “The history portrayed in this fine caravan gave those few individuals Saturday their right to distribute material for peace in this country.”[xi]

Intense reaction to the Caravan confrontation put Roy Just, Tabor College president, in a difficult situation.  Elmer Flaming, conservative Main Street banker, called Just and asked him to rein in his protesting students and faculty.  On the other side, Ben Ollenburger, professor of religious studies and philosophy, distributed a statement for the “Tabor Forum.”   The statement scolded the college for failing to support the protesters.  They should rather be commended for “an act of courage and faithfulness in giving public testimony to the New Testament message of peace.”   And, said Ollenburger, the college should renew its commitment “to be faithful to the tradition and theology which is the reason for this school’s existence.”[xii]  President Just attempted to mediate between his radical faculty members and conservative major donors.[xiii]  According to Frank Brenneman, one of the faculty protesters, Just agreed with the ideals of the neo-Anabaptists.  But he wanted the radicals to know that Tabor College could not ignore someone like Flaming, a major financial contributor whose bank held the major share of Tabor College’s debt.[xiv]

The “Caravan confrontation” prompted G. George Ens, a medical doctor in Hillsboro, to write out his own version of the underlying issues, and to send them to President Just with copies to three of Tabor’s neo-Anabaptists (John E. Toews, Ben Ollenburger, and Al Dueck).  In Ens’s view, two philosophies were contending for the minds of Tabor students.  One was the “Christian capitalist” philosophy that had sustained the Mennonite Brethren Church.   It held to an atonement theology with salvation in Christ followed by evangelism and mission work; believed in the validity of capital and benevolence; valued a thrifty and frugal life-style; and respected government as instituted by God.   The alternative “socialistic” philosophy, which was threatening to undermine the church, criticized “cheap grace;” thought money was evil; advocated poverty and communalism; was anti-American and avoided involvement in government except for negative prophetic witness.

The Bicentennial-related events and discussions of 1975-76 were one part of an ongoing social and theological process among the Mennonite Brethren and at Tabor College.  Roy Just, president of Tabor from 1963 to 1980, was widely perceived as having shifted sharply conservative in the latter years of his presidency.  According to Lynn Jost, co-author of the history of Tabor College, President Just after 1973 envisioned Tabor as “a school of evangelistic mission,” but the faculty resisted, “insisting on the historic liberal arts mission.”[xv]In 1976 Just hired Calvin Redekop to the position of Vice-President, knowing that Redekop would be a strong advocate of Anabaptist identity at Tabor.   However, the outspoken neo-Anabaptists, including Redekop, all left Tabor College in the late 1970s, convinced that Tabor had chosen definitively to move in a conservative evangelical, rather than an Anabaptist, direction.[xvi]  The American bicentennial dialogue in Hillsboro illustrated the acculturation process of Mennonite Brethren toward conservative evangelicalism.

[i] Hillsboro Star-Journal, 28 April 1976, 2-A, 5-A.

[ii] “Armed Forces Caravan in Hillsboro Saturday,”  Tabor View,1 October 1976, 2.

[iii] Star Journal, 26 May 1976,  A-1.  The Star Journal published a special 24-page issue, including a “Special Bicentennial Section.”

[iv] Elmer W. Flaming, “Why Celebrate the Bicentennial,” The Christian Leader, 20 July 1976, 16

[v] Scott Chesebro, telephone interview with the author, 14 December 2011.

[vi] Undated paper by students Daniel Born,Ted Braun, Will Friesen, Charlie Havens, and Gordon Zerbe.  From Calvin Redekop collection.   Key faculty member in the “neo-Anabaptist” group were John E. Toews and Ben Ollenburger of the Bible and Religion department, and  Al Dueck, psychology department.

[vii] Scott Chesebro, telephone interview with the author, 14 December 2011.   Chesebro, sociology teacher  not in the neo-Anabaptist group, had a reputation  as a Marxist.   Gordon Zerbe email message to the author, 9 December 2011.

[viii] The Tabor View, 24 October 1975,  1.

[ix] Don Ratzlaff,  “How Will We Respond?” The Tabor View, 24 October 1975, 2.  In other editorials Ratzlaff was critical of militarism and nationalism.  He suggested that the national anthem, “The Star Spangled Banner,” should be replaced with a less war-like song.

[x] Hillsboro Star-Journal, “Service van visits city,” 29 September 1976.

[x] K. B. Bruce, “Missed the Point.” Hillsboro Star-Journal, 6 October 1976, 2.


[xii] Untitled statement by Ben C. Ollenburger, 11 November 1976.  Calvin Redekop collection.

[xiii] Ben Ollenburger, email message to the author, 8 December 2011.

[xiv] Frank Brenneman, telephone interview with the author, 20 December 2011.

[xv] Tabor College, a Century of Transformation 1908-2008. Douglas B. Miller, editor (Hillsboro:  Center for Mennonite Brethren Studies, 2008), 135.   Section three, “A Time of Stability and Growth (1956-1980), by Lynn Jost,  95- 140.

[xvi] Calvin Redekop, email message to the author, 11 December 2011.