What we do when we don’t know what else to do

Ribbons fluttered from the trees, the lampposts, the utility poles of south Minneapolis. Green and blue for Annunciation.

Some were tied with looping bows, like a gift. Some were tied so close to the ground, you could tell a child had left it there.

For days, the community has wept and raged, donated money, donated blood and carried flowers to the school shooting memorial. Two students from Annunciation Catholic School were killed in a mass shooting. Many more were injured, and everyone is hurting. It’s not a new feeling, and nothing feels like enough.

On Friday, a group of people who didn’t know what else to do gathered in the basement of Washburn Library to do what they could.

They sliced plastic table coverings into colorful strips, packed them into bags by the dozen, and sent them out the door. A long line of volunteers waited to collect the ribbons and update a growing spreadsheet with the streets they planned to visit.

“You hear people talk about the city of Minneapolis and how we’re not a community. I just don’t believe that,” said Elizabeth Kruger, who grew up in the neighborhood near Annunciation and the spot where a killer opened fire on the church and the children inside. “This is evidence of that.”

The first ribbons went up on the day of the attack. Inspired, other neighborhood groups began organizing. Facebook buy-nothing groups started sourcing ribbons.

By the end of the day, ribbons seemed to flutter from every vertical surface on 54th Street, all the way to the school. You could brush your fingers across them in passing, like beads on a rosary.

On the Kenny Neighborhood Facebook page, they posted photos, encouragement, and promises to return to the library Saturday afternoon to cut and hang more ribbons.

A ribbon on a tree is a small thing. A reminder. A promise to the families that they’re not alone in their pain. How a city will remember 10-year-old Harper Moyski, with her bright smile and kind heart. And the huge brown teddy bear left on the church steps in memory of 8-year-old Fletcher Merkel, along with a note.

“Fletcher, I love you always and forever, Mom.”

Everywhere you looked this week, there were people trying to help. Therapy dogs wearing “please pet me” vests snuggled children on the church steps. Volunteers gathered the bouquets left at the memorial and put them in water to keep them blooming. Chalk hearts for Annunciation cover the sidewalks.

Thompson looked around the room crowded with volunteers, sprawled on the floors with scissors. A back table was heaped with donated food from Pizzeria Lola and other neighborhood restaurants. Children played and babies cooed.

“The community coming together,” Thompson said, “is powerful.”

There have been thousands of mass shootings in the United States over the years. The most likely place to be caught in one is your workplace. The second-most likely place, according to the Rockefeller Institute of Government, is your child’s school.

Everytown for Gun Safety counts 91 incidents of gunfire on America’s school grounds so far in 2025, resulting in 31 deaths and 86 injuries.

In the days and weeks and months and years ahead, there will be new attempts to do something about this mass tragedy. For today, we can stop doom-scrolling alone. Come together. Help each other through this.