Subdued Remembrance of a Dark Day in Tucson

Subdued Remembrance of a Dark Day in Tucson
TUCSON — The sun had fallen and a crowd had gathered on a chilly Sunday night on the mall at the University of Arizona, for the last event of a weekend commemorating the first anniversary of the mass shooting here one year ago. The vigil began with the Pledge of the Allegiance.





Led by Representative Gabrielle Giffords.

The crowd responded with gasps and a roar as Ms. Giffords, wearing a vibrant red scarf, walked unaided slowly to the center of the stage. Most had expected her to be there — that is why many had come — but few thought she would be able to play such a central role.

“I pledge of allegiance,” Ms. Giffords began, speaking slowly — almost defiantly — as the crowd of several thousand, some in tears, joined in. Ms. Giffords holding her stiff right arm with her left hand, finished with a bright grin at the crowd. She was led slowly and unsteadily to the side of the stage by Ron Barber, her chief of staff who was also shot in the attack and led the ceremony tonight.

“It gives you goose bumps,” said Michael Wood, 52, a construction worker in the crowd, his gaze fixed on the congresswoman, who was shot in the head just one year ago. “It’s good to see her. She looked really good.”

It was a stirring ending to a two-day commemoration that was in many ways remarkable for how understated it was.

A year ago, after the shooting attack that left 6 people dead and 13 wounded — including Ms. Giffords — this city gathered in an expression of grief and shock that lasted for weeks. There was a blur of funerals, a crush of flowers, candles and well-wishers on the expanse of lawn at the hospital where victims were taken, and a visit by President Obama that drew thousands.

On this anniversary, there was the candlelight vigil, an interdenominational prayer service, a ringing of bells at 10:11 a.m., marking the moment of the attack, and the reading of the names of victims.

There was Ms. Giffords herself, a quiet presence until her appearance Sunday, visiting places that have become national symbols of the attack (even if they have little meaning to her, given her inability to remember the events of that day): the Safeway supermarket where the shootings took place and the intensive care unit at the University of Arizona Medical Center where people were taken.

But there were also anniversary events more in keeping with the character of this community, where people have struggled to comprehend how such brutal violence could unfold in such a serene place. There were yoga, meditation, designated hugging spots, dancing and steel drum playing. There were campaigns promoting civility and community — people gathered Saturday at a park to sign a “Tucsonans Commit to Kindness” contract. At the vigil, the crowd held a lot blue glow stick — taking care not to light them until Mr. Barber told them it was time — that cast a slightly mystical air to the whole event.

“You have to understand: This has always been a very civil community, a community that has always been tied together,” said the mayor, Jonathan Rothschild. “We are a different place. We are a city of one million people, and sometimes we acted, to our benefit and detraction, as a community of 50,000 people. For something like this to happen was such a shock.”

“Tucson is a changed community,” he said.

For Tucson, this is a turning point as it searches for a way to mark the tragedy — to give it meaning beyond the day itself — without the images from the Safeway parking lot becoming the first thing people think of at the mention of the city. “We refuse to let this tragic day define us,” Patricia Maisch, one of the women who wrested the gun from the shooter, said at a service memorializing the victims at a hall at the University of Arizona.

Sunday’s events included two church services, a memorial service and a candlelight vigil. Hundreds gathered for an interfaith service at the St. Augustine Cathedral, the headquarters of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Tucson; a shofar was sounded by a rabbi, a prayer was read from the Koran, and there was a welcome from a Lutheran pastor and the vicar general of the Diocese of Tucson. Nearly every pew of the soaring church — still decorated with Christmas wreaths — was filled. People sat quietly, some holding back tears, as a bell was rung as the name of each of the six people who died was called out in the church.