Life with the Lions
I just came back from my mail box. There was a nice card from a man I know casually, sending kind words of support regarding last week’s “road rage” shooting that seriously wounded my cousin, and killed his son. I’ve been acquainted with this fellow for over twenty years; we share an interest in local railroad history. His father used to work with my father.
His father had died as a result of choking on food. I went to the funeral, and found my general belief that American society has great difficulty in dealing with death reinforced -- though death, of course, is always difficult under any circumstances. I remember the pastor leading the ceremony, saying that she knew the deceased “always loved dessert,” and that in heaven, God provides a never-ending variety of sweet desserts which grow as fruit on a tree. Perhaps it’s just me, but that seemed a tad too close to Santa God for me.
I remember when my friend Lee died. It was unexpected. Several people said to his brother, Onondaga Chief Oren Lyons, that Lee had “died too young.” I remember Oren saying that Lee had died on exactly the day he was supposed to. It was still equally sad, of course, but in my mind, Oren was correct.
My childhood “best friend” stopped by the other day. We remain very close friends, now that we have become the Elders of our valley neighborhood. My friend said that when the gunman got into his vehicle that day, he was going to kill someone; it was my cousins’ bad luck to be the first people he encountered. I’d have to agree that a man who flew into a homicidal rage and shoot two human beings, because the vehicle ahead of him was going the speed limit, could just as easily killed someone else.
My cousin was released from the hospital. Physically, he has aged at least 20 years in a week’s time. I visit him for short periods of time, usually twice a day. In between, we talk on the phone, or by e-mail, to discuss thoughts that come to him when he attempts to rest. I take care of business with the insurance and the bank. On Tuesday, my cousin was upset that, if he didn’t get to the poll, it would be the first time in 48 years that he hasn’t voted. I assured him that he has a valid excuse.
I voted, of course. And I attempt to take care of other business. My youngest daughter, for example, had basketball practice yesterday afternoon, followed by the area’s “senior” soccer game. Earlier in the day, I went to a medical appointment. It was re-scheduled, as I forgot it last week; the doctor said I had a valid excuse.
I’m more tired, sore, and worn-out than I can ever remember being. Even though I was awake in time, I didn’t get the trash and recyclables down the driveway this morning for pick-up. I’m finding it difficult to keep up on “housework.” A couple nights ago, when I went grocery shopping, a republican official from my town keep approaching me, asking questions about possible support for her “economic development plan.” I couldn’t follow what she was saying the first time she cornered me; I didn’t bother to try the second and third time. It was like she spoke a foreign language. I was just too tired.
But the vast majority of people I encounter -- in person, on the internet, or on the telephone -- are good and decent folk, who are horrified by what happened. Senseless violent outbursts such as this not only damage the families involved, these events damage the community. I often speak about systems -- family, workplace, community, etc -- being like a mobile that hangs over an infant’s crib. When the worst of human potential is inflicted upon one family piece, the others shift in response, in a manner that truly shows the best in humanity.
In our way, when a young person loses their life in such a tragic way, we recognize them as messengers to the larger community. Their lives had a special meaning. At the same time that it causes an almost unbearable pain of separation for the family and friends, and shifts them into the suffering described as the wilderness, identifying that lesson is essential. It is as opposite to the “life is cheap” message of that thug, as that higher potential that the community displays.
It’s interesting to me, to consider the very different manner that people tend to behave in the contexts of dealing with tragedy versus “politics.” One unites people, and the other divides us into opposing groups. One recognizes that we are each part of a connected whole, while the other creates divisions. This isn’t to suggest that there shouldn’t be different opinions in things political -- surely, there should be -- but just as we benefit from having mutual respect in the realm of the socio-political debates, our society is being harmed by the harshness of the culture wars.
It’s that harshness that creates the atmosphere of anger, anxiety, fear, and hatred that saturates our nation. It builds a momentum that vicious thugs, such as the one who shot my family, mistake for license to unleash violence on an unsuspecting public.
It shouldn’t be this way. And it doesn’t have to be this way. With conscious effort, we can change the direction our culture is moving in.
Peace,
H2O Man
= new reply since forum marked as read
Thomas Merton's introduction begins by paraphrasing Laurens Van Der Post, who described western civilization as a one-eyed giant. That eye only focused upon science/knowledge. The cultures from the east (more accurately, traditional societies) had wisdom, but far less science. We need to balance that, and focus our vision with both of those eyes.
By no coincidence, that is exactly what I believe you are saying -- so well! -- here. And I agree completely. Plus, I thank you for motivating me to get Merton's book out! ("Gandhi on Non-Violence"
