My son lost two friends that day. We mourned with their families. And we attended the memorials. And I still get teary eyed when I hear the Band or sing the Spirit. We are a family of 18 Aggies since 1924.
I don't want this to sound callous or inappropriate but I recall watching a program a few years back about how some young people today are searching for rituals. The moderator felt that our society has taken away from some of the usual solemn rituals that hold families together: Baccalaureate services, graduation ceremonies, family holidays and dinners are a few that in some cases have become less important. Older style traditions such as May poles, "secret" society initiations, etc. have almost disappeared. This program talked about how young people need some form of organized ritual in their lives. I'm not sure why this is. It was an interesting thought.
Maybe the young men who "acted out" were searching for some purpose in their own lives and this memorial was a reminder to them of ow important it is to take life seriously lest your life have no meaning.
I can't speak for them. But I feel young people are not so willing to accept tragedy. The older we get, the more tragedies we witness, the more we expect them to occur.
Dylan Thomas expressed it best in his poem:
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
-- Dylan Thomas