From the Editor: And then it’s your hometown.

A protester at the "No Kings" rally in Steamboat Springs on Saturday holds a sign showing support for the state of Minnesota after an assassin killed Rep. Melissa Hortman and her husband Mark in their home on Saturday morning. (Dylan Anderson/The Yampa Valley Bugle)

Some images stick with you. One that has been in my head the last two days is of my dad sitting on the bleachers at the pool in my hometown. I was on the swim team in high school, and I imagine he was picking me up from practice in this memory. Seems logical anyway.

Next to him in this mental picture is my friend Colin’s mom. Colin could probably be described as the best swimmer on the team, though I don’t think we admitted that at the time. He was a team captain the year after I was.

We were good friends in high school, and I was over at his house a lot, especially during the swim season. We went our separate ways after high school, but his last name was still up on the record board at the pool the last time I was there. They got it the year after I graduated.

As I was starting my day on Saturday, my mom texted me to say that Colin’s mom had been shot. His dad, too. In their home. In the middle of the night.

An hour later, the Governor of Minnesota confirmed that my friends’ parents had been assassinated in yet another act of political violence in our country. Another assassination attempt that morning failed to kill its targets in my hometown of Champlin, Minnesota. They live on a street just like my own.

Melissa and Mark Hortman were truly remarkable people. You often don’t get to know your high school friends’ parents all too well, but they were different. They were the kind of people who embodied the term welcoming.

They never hesitated to have the team over to their house for an impromptu pasta party or post-meet celebration. When they did, they wouldn’t go into another room or put us downstairs. They were often in the middle of it all, talking with a couple dozen teenage boys about who knows what.

I always thought Melissa was an incredibly cool mom. She was in the state legislature by then, and I remember her telling us all about her career and how and why she got into public office. She’d ask about us, too; what we wanted to do with our lives and how we wanted to get there. All while she is pulling hot batches of cookies out of the oven and dodging crazy kids running around her house.

Her brownies were incredible. She would do them on these large sheet pans so we wouldn’t run out — always the fancy Ghirardelli mix. And they always had the truly ideal level of fudginess.

Mark was the dad everyone wished they could be. He was quick-witted and really funny, always having a quip that would leave the room bursting. But he was also very real and would engage with you with a level of respect that made you feel like what you had to say was truly important to him. He’s certainly someone I think of when I think about the kind of dad I would want to be someday.

I can’t comprehend they’re gone.

I knew it was Champlin on the screen the second I turned on the news Saturday morning. I’d recognize that curb-cut anywhere. The houses give it away, too. Each has changed over the years, but almost all of them are one of a handful of split-level designs popular with homebuilders in the late 80s.

John Hoffman and his wife Yvette live in a house almost identical to one I grew up across the street from. My school bus passed through their neighborhood. I didn’t know their family — their daughter Hope was a grade below my little sister. I’ve read that Hope, who was born with spina bifida, is part of the reason John went into politics, to be a voice for people with disabilities.

It's been reported that Yvette had to jump on top of Hope on Saturday morning, shielding her daughter from harm as Yvette was shot eight times. John was shot nine times. Thankfully, they will survive.

You never expect something this tragic — this truly insane — could happen where you grew up to people you know. I’ve had the privilege of believing that to be true for most of my life. And then it’s your hometown. And the world seems like a different place.

I’m writing this because I’m angry. I’m angry for my friend; I’m angry for my hometown; I'm angry that this is a thing that can happen in our country. And I’m angry that every news story I read fails to capture just how wonderful and amazing and important that these people were.

I can’t do a lot about much of that. But I can tell you.

Thanks for reading. Please keep Melissa and Mark, and their children, Colin and Sophie, in your thoughts. A GoFundMe has been up to support the Hortman family; you can find that here.