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It’s Just Not Fair
By Al
Ruechel | 10-30-02
So many things in life just don’t
seem fair. And in death it only becomes magnified. Names that should
be wiped from the earth for their evil deeds will be remembered. A
gifted politician’s death is underscored more for the imbalance it
could bring the Senate then for the ideological balance his ideas
brought to the table. Old men and women who’ve made immeasurable
contributions to society will quietly slip away in the night in
nursing homes with barely a whisper of tribute or remembrance. The
good will die young and the bad keep living to strike over and over
again. And so it goes….
I’m sick to death of hearing anymore about John Muhammad and poor,
little, misguided, brainwashed John Malvo. I want them to go away
and never come back, do you hear? Forget the analysis and the
second-guessing and the finger pointing and head scratching. They
are evil and there is no redemption or excuse for them, at least not
on this side of the judgment throne. I would rather remember the
names of their victims and say a prayer for those grieving their
loss. Those families are walking that deep abyss where, to survive,
you must acknowledge that we are souls traveling in perishable
bodies that give way to an eternal existence in the care of the God
of the universe. To believe anything less is to condemn yourself.
And we mourn the loss of Senator Paul Wellstone, if for no other
reason than idealists are far to rare in our homogenized society to
lose even one. It’s just unfortunate he is being deified as a saint
before the ideals he espoused had to endure the test of the ballot
box this November. That doesn’t reduce the value of his commitment
to his ideals; it just cheapens it because now his death is turned
into some “cause celeb”, as if the ideals themselves didn’t matter
enough to be part of the political landscape. Run Walter run for you
now have a reason. Victory by default! That really stinks. How do
you compete against a dead man?
Last week, the Bay Area buried a young marine, ambushed by
terrorists in a training exercise in Kuwait. He was laid to rest
with full honors and tears and speeches. He never wanted to be a
hero but accepted his calling to serve his country with no
reservations. Many of those who laid flowers on his grave were
parents who lost their own sons in defense of this great nation. No
more headlines or wedding announcements or graduations or
congratulations on promotions. Their names are etched in silent
granite only to be seen by those searching for their own stone
memories.
And how about the Sefa brothers? They had escaped the guns of war in
Bosnia fleeing to a nation where their faith and ethnicity wouldn’t
identify them as targets. Almarin was just 14. His brother Ervis was
17. Their friends and teachers called the newcomers to Florida a
delight. They were funny, handsome, and full of life and energy and
dreams. They rode one bike to school each morning to catch a bus for
a special program for speakers of other languages. There are no
police records on file for the Sefa brothers. These are good kids
who don’t make the headlines. Or, they didn’t until Friday. As the
boys rode their bike, one on the handlebars the other peddling, they
were knocked to the street by a car. Before the boys could get up
off the ground a second car hit them. Ervis died almost immediately.
Almarin lingered in the hospital for another 24 hours. All I could
see in my mind last night was the image of Ervis calling to his
brother to come home.
It’s all related and connected somehow! These are images on the TV
screen; stories in the paper; topics of gossip and opinion. They
make us angry and sad and confused and numb all at the same time. We
pretend we are in control of everything when we have control over
nothing. In the grand scheme of things, that illusion is the
greatest tragedy.
Al Ruechel, copyright 2002, all
rights reserved
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