How many times have I had to write this same column? Three, four, some other version of a tangential subject? I’ve lost count. They’ve all fallen on deaf ears. I’m foolish to think this time will be any different.

This time is different for me, though. Brown is less than an hour away from A’s school. A friend’s daughter, who is the same age as A, is a student there.

We went through the trials and tribulations of applications together, and my friend gave me invaluable advice she’d learned from getting her older kids into college and through the financial aid system. We’ve talked about sharing rides, or what the best routes home are.

Although our kids haven’t actually seen each other since they were much younger, they are kindred spirits on a similar journey, and my friend and I compare notes on occasion.

I nervously stalked her social media, waiting for an update. I kept refreshing news stories, waiting for an update on the victims. Relieved when she shared that her daughter was safe, but deeply sad to know that her life will never be the same.

Earlier this year, I went through the same ordeal when the shooting occurred at Florida State. Between A and G, I’ve suddenly grown a whole population of college aged kids who are all over the country at different schools.

A was in the process of winding down his semester, finishing up his finals. I didn’t want to stress him out more with phone calls and texts about his safety. I knew he would be vigilant, but I also knew it was one more thing for him to have to handle.

I blew a gasket when one of the social media pages from his school shared a “favorite places to study” post on social media. Belatedly, I noted that the posting date was a few days before the shooting at Brown, but I was agitated that they hadn’t taken it down.

I got to the station early to meet A’s train, and I couldn’t help pacing back and forth. Although he’d texted me several times with updates and I knew he would be climbing the stairs momentarily, I still just couldn’t shake the dread I’d been carrying around all week. He was less than amused by me bursting into tears at the sight of him, but everything that had been pent up since the bad news broke just couldn’t be contained anymore.

The entire ride home, we talked of little else. When he was younger, at bedtime, he would talk through everything that had happened during the day. Steve used to call it his “download.” Well, I got the full download. It was obvious that he’d been trying to put things out of his mind so he could focus on finals, but also trying to be hypervigilant, planning ahead, looking for escape routes, waiting for the slightest sign that something was going to go south fast.

This isn’t freedom. This isn’t life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. What are we doing to these kids? Why are we OK with this happening over and over and over again? Over 75 school shootings this year. I know I haven’t even heard of half of them. They don’t even make the news anymore. Why did the one at Brown? Because it’s an elite, Ivy League institution? Because the gunman is still at large? Because it’s just weeks before Christmas? Because it coincided with the Sandy Hook massacre?

It hasn’t remained in the news very long. Other awful headlines have taken its place. Although the news from Bondi Beach was awful and disheartening, the immediate steps the Australian government started to take in its wake were encouraging. The steps our government has taken to implement abortion bans to “protect the innocent” shows that changes can be made, even when they’re unpopular.

Which makes it so darn hard to understand why, despite popular support for what are referred to as “common sense” gun laws, (I can’t say that without hearing my dad say that the thing about common sense is that it’s not very common) not one single thing has changed, even as the deaths of innocents and the number of incidents continues to climb every year.

I’m tired of the excuses. I’m tired of writing letters, making phone calls and getting nowhere. I’m tired of the same people being elected year after year, while our kids continue to be gunned down.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News