COLUMN: No laughing matter
Man, I don’t know about you, but lately I’m not feeling very humorous.
I’d love to poke fun at something or someone, but I feel weathered, pessimistic, irritated and tired. Maybe I’ve ingested too much school for my own good, or perhaps I’m stuck in a dead-end job and need to siphon a smidgen of change into my life. Moreover, the overall putrid quality of the news recently is not helping me ward off the dark clouds vying for position over my head.
Every day some new tragedy awaits placement in the headlines and it makes me want to shake my fist and scream.
I’m thinking of Danielle van Dam, which is easy, because I have a 3-year-old daughter and someday I’d like her to grow up in a healthy, non-violent, peaceful world. Perhaps Danielle’s parents had that same wish.
Now she’s dead, and as the media frenzy swallows Danielle’s accused killer – David Westerfield, I can’t help but think foul play is involved. This crime smells like a middle class version of the JonBenet Ramsey murder. The entire situation feels manipulated, especially with Brenda van Dam and David Westerfield’s late night flirting at a local bar on the eve of Danielle’s disappearance.
The list goes on.
Every time I think of little Mary Yates, only six months old, lying face down in a lukewarm bath, I feel anger and sadness. When I envision 7-year-old Noah Yates seeing the same sight – Mary’s lifeless frame, hands clinched into fists – right before his mother hunted him down and murdered him, I usually do weep.
I don’t much care if Andrea Yates goes to jail for the rest of her life, is executed or spends the remainder of her days in a mental hospital babbling about Satan, because regardless of how in tune with reality she is or isn’t, Yates understands her crime, and living with the memory for five minutes or 50 years is absolute hell. Justice won’t be served because the five children can’t return to life, so anything else is simply semantics.
Oh, and don’t let me forget about all the warring and bombing.
Israel and Palestine add a new chapter to their debacle every single day. Our country continues to pockmark the Afghan landscape with bombs and violence, and journalists like Daniel Pearl wonder if seeking the truth will end their life as well. What triggers people to be flippant with violence? How could someone mentally plan – let alone physically accomplish – stabbing and decapitating an innocent reporter?
Sigh. I just don’t get it.
People say to me, “Well, that’s just the way the world is. Accept it and forget about it.” That’s my problem right there, because I can’t just forget about it. It’s there and needs fixing, and because I’m a man, hell-bent on controlling and reworking my sphere of life, I have to act and gain some rule over the situation.
I think I’ll start simple. Tomorrow I’m going to lift someone’s spirits.
You should do the same. Who knows what may happen.