The survivalists among us didn't filter the tragedy in Charleston through categories such as racism or gun control.
Instead, so many of us pulled down the drawbridge and filled the moat with alligators. Access to us and those we loved, including our dogs and cats, would be very limited. At any time, for no reason or some compelling reason, a Dylann Roof could murder us.
What Americans are known for - friendliness - could screech to a halt. Instead we could become as aloof as the stereotype of the villager in France or the elite on the upper east side of Manhattan.
Tonight, in my support group someone asked us for a ride. Not one of us stirred. "Too many nuts around," I thought to myself.