I read a shirt the other day. Noteworthy, I think.
It said, “Don’t piss off old people. The older we get, the less’ life in prison’ is a deterrent.”
That about sums it up. I’m sure a lot of people are feeling that way these days. Things seem pretty bad in the United States and all around the world. In so many different ways. For one, there is the pandemic. In the U.S., we have lost 210,000 lives, so far. To make that worse, a good percentage of the American population thinks those deaths are “acceptable numbers.”
Acceptable numbers. You know, I’ve lost a few people in my life who I really loved. And on the days that those people died, my heart broke. The world got dark. There was pain, and terrible grief, for the loss of that beautiful life that once walked this earth and would never — ever — grace it again. I can’t imagine that loved-one of mine being considered an “acceptable number.”
We are a country divided, it seems. The heartless and the compassionate.
This morning, I saw that this is the anniversary date when John F. Kennedy told Americans to build fallout shelters. He made the announcement on October 6, 1961. I hadn’t been born yet. I wasn’t even cooking. But I am sure JFK got on TV and made a special announcement to warn Americans what dangers might be ahead.
A few things come to mind on that. The first thing is my mother. Now, you’d have to know Lucille Kronenberger to get a full understanding of the scene. But my guess is, old Lucy probably lost all composure. She probably stood in front of the TV, yelling, “Paaaaaauuuuuuuul!” That was my dad. Paul. Then, next. She probably became insistent that he begin the construction of our much-needed fallout shelter, somewhere in the back yard, immediately.
My dad. He was always talking the cat down out of the tree.
We didn’t have a fallout shelter. And as far as I know, there weren’t any in our neighborhood either. Most people probably couldn’t afford to take on such a task. But besides that, the backyards were too small to build any kind of an underground structure, especially one large enough to accommodate a big Catholic family, which most neighbors had.
And by and large, our country got past the threat of danger. There was no nuclear war, as you may have noticed. But for a time, there was the possibility, and I am guessing that America appreciated knowing about it. That frank and honest assessment. It was our right to know and our right to prepare. And thankfully, no American lives were lost in that incident.
On September 11, 2001, we were attacked in earnest. There was no warning to the American public on that day. Three thousand citizens lost their lives. And we spent billions of dollars on building memorials so that we would “never forget.”
Three thousand. I wonder if those were acceptable numbers.
And today? We face another assault. Another attack on American soil. To date, 210,000 dead. How many will die today from COVID-19? And who will be the person to tell their sons, their daughters, or parents, or wives, or husbands? An acceptable loss? A number?
Who?
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“Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart.”
― José N. Harris
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“I guess by now I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone-you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence.”
― Alyson Noel, Evermore
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“It is useless for me to describe to you how terrible Violet, Klaus, and even Sunny felt in the time that followed. If you have ever lost someone very important to you, then you already know how it feels, and if you haven’t, you cannot possibly imagine it.”
― Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning
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The threat is deadly. The response is unforgivable.
