Last Friday morning, the technical crew of my staff was standing outdoors, indulging in a few minutes that we refer to as the USB or “union smoke break.” One of the things that we all remarked on was that winter was setting in, and it was getting cold.

We had no idea at the time how cold it was about to get.

In our company, we deal mostly with financial firms, banks and hedge funds. They are hard-driving businesses, precise in the way they work, and while we enjoy working with the technology that they require, they’re not what we would refer to most of the time as fun people.

And yet, we are a 38-year-old company, and before our town became the capital of the investment industry in the United States, we were the hometown audiovisual company for a lot of Connecticut’s schools. Several of them are still with us as clients, and have been through a number of generations of school personnel. And while they can’t produce the kind of revenue that the trading floors can, there is a special kind of psychic income that we get from them. On the day that we are installing something for one of them, you can usually see it in the attitude in the office. It is fun when we can share the kind of technology that we work with with the school. The thought that perhaps we can help a young child to discover the thrill of learning, or even that we can make them laugh when they watch a movie in their new auditorium, can make the job fun. It’s always great when you’re working on the final programming of a system and you feel a tug at your sleeve and one of these little kids wants to know what it is that you are doing. It makes our day.

For us, one of these places is called Sandy Hook Elementary School. It’s a pleasant little place located out in the rural Connecticut that I love so much. It’s not the kind of place that you think of with drugs, violence, or street gangs. It’s the kind of place that you think of when you think of bake sales and PTA meetings and volunteer fire departments.

This morning, a young man took the lives of 27 people in that school. None of us will ever understand what could make someone make targets of small children, to deny them the future that they were there to learn about, and to resign from humanity in such fashion. Twenty sets of parents will spend the rest of their lives searching for meaning in an act inherently meaningless. And all of us will find ourselves reduced in some way by the fact that one of us could do such a thing.

Today, some of us spent the day sending emails and making phone calls to determine if any of the people we knew were victims. Tomorrow, I’m sure we’ll find out, but will be unable to rejoice for those saved because of the memory of those who were not, and because of the knowledge that in some way today everyone was a victim.

For those of you who pray, I would ask that you pray for the children and parents of Sandy Hook school. For all of you, I would ask that you remember that the work we do for schools is important, and to keep working for all children.

Editor’s Note: Joel’s company, Everett Hall Associates, is managing a drive to donate art supplies to the Newton schools, since art therapy helps children deal with trauma. If you’re interested in donating, email Mike Macri at mmacri@everetthall.com