I just listened to the fourth movement
of Mahler's Fifth Symphony three times in a row. I had to; it was
the only think I could think to do. I needed to process the way this
day has been saturated in death.
A massive flock of geese resides in our
neighborhood, year-round. Most mornings, right at rush hour, for
reasons that must seem compelling to geese, they troop single-file
across the four lanes of Wabash Avenue. I have watched this happen
dozens of times. Every time all the drivers stop and put on their
flashers. Today, I watched a *&@#^% driver plow straight into
the midst of those magnificent birds. He hit about eight of them.
Several died instantly. Others were cruelly injured and lay
suffering in the road. Drivers got out of their vehicles and
lovingly, tenderly carried the injured to the sides, laying them in
front yards, their necks slowly writhing in an agony that was
horrific and beautifully graceful all at once.
The *&@#^% just kept going.
Probably a wise move. I know of at least one driver who felt like
twisting his neck horrifically.
Later, I performed a committal service
for a couple who died some twenty years ago. Their ashes had sat on
their niece and nephew's mantel ever since. They, the cemetery
manager and I were the only attendees. Usually performing such a
service makes me feel useful. Today, I felt an aching, redundant
sorrow.
It seems like each week another truck
driver on Interstate 70 in Vigo County fails to slow down in time and
plows into the rear end of some benighted soul's car, killing all
within it. I read these stories and get a little angry. But I admit
they have not made me nearly as angry, nor sad, as this morning did.
I suppose if I personally witnessed such an incident it would. I
hope it would.
As Mahler played I found myself needing
to share not only my feelings, but my prescription. That
prescription has two parts:
1. To ALL DRIVERS (including me):
there is literally nothing so important that pops up on your phone
that it requires your attention while driving. (I watched *&@#^%
drive on with his phone in one hand resting in front of him on the
dash board.) Put your phone where you cannot reach it while driving.
2. To ALL MORTALS (including me): life
is short. Savor it. Life is a gift. Receive it. Life is precious.
Treasure it—your own, and the life of all creatures whom God has
created and called good.
