The real tragedy of it all ...
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Today, death stood at my doorstep. Literally.
Someone (I still don't know whether it was a man or woman) jumped off the ten-story rooftop of the parking garage across the street, to his/her death. They were drawing up a police zone as I turned the corner from 15th and onto Spruce.
Because this event was already attracting a crowd, and because the scene of the accident (if it can be called that—it was more like an incident) was pretty much in the middle of the street, access to my building was impossible without having to go around from one block south. I was made aware of this by a policeman at the scene, and given the ridiculous heat, I must have made a face like I was inconvenienced—which I was, mind you, but not especially so. To my reaction, the police officer shot back, sarcastically, "oh, *what* an inconvenience!", as if to imply that I was a callous, heartless bastard that I would be more concerned with the minor detour than with the person's death.
And this caused me to think: Am I? Why should I care about this person's death? This person, for whatever reason, chose to end his/her life. Should I feel empathy for this person? And if so, how do I live my life knowing there are thousand who die every day for reasons that are out of their control? Yes, at that moment, I was more annoyed at having to go around the block than I was concerned that someone died on this day. Why should I be more affected by this death than by the countless others I read about that occur elsewhere every single day? Should the proximity of death be a factor for our level of emotional involvement?
It sounds callous to say, but I didn't know this person. People wouldn't necessarily admit this, but, though most people would put up a good front of genuine contrived concern, they don't care either. Five minutes after mustering their best "poor person, I feel genuine sadness at this moment" face, they would have gone about their business, planning dinner and worrying about the noisy kids next door. And that's the way it should be. Am I an asshole for not being hypocritical about it?
And this says nothing of the poilice officer's condescending tone at the moment. Presumably, he felt that I should have expressed concern rather than annoyance, but why? Did he feel concern, other than for the formal show of empathy that he has to present for the public? He sees death every day; even the possibility of his own. Does he really care that this person chose to end his/her life? The answer is, unequivocally: No. It would make his job impossible to bear if he were. But he still puts on a sad face, because that's what you do in his position.
Just don't expect the same from me, is all.
This post is, admittedly, a little dark. I thought it worthwhile to talk about it in this way because, well, that's how I think about these things. Reason is harsh and brutal. I am not. I trust that those who know me will understand this.
Nic
Someone (I still don't know whether it was a man or woman) jumped off the ten-story rooftop of the parking garage across the street, to his/her death. They were drawing up a police zone as I turned the corner from 15th and onto Spruce.
Because this event was already attracting a crowd, and because the scene of the accident (if it can be called that—it was more like an incident) was pretty much in the middle of the street, access to my building was impossible without having to go around from one block south. I was made aware of this by a policeman at the scene, and given the ridiculous heat, I must have made a face like I was inconvenienced—which I was, mind you, but not especially so. To my reaction, the police officer shot back, sarcastically, "oh, *what* an inconvenience!", as if to imply that I was a callous, heartless bastard that I would be more concerned with the minor detour than with the person's death.
And this caused me to think: Am I? Why should I care about this person's death? This person, for whatever reason, chose to end his/her life. Should I feel empathy for this person? And if so, how do I live my life knowing there are thousand who die every day for reasons that are out of their control? Yes, at that moment, I was more annoyed at having to go around the block than I was concerned that someone died on this day. Why should I be more affected by this death than by the countless others I read about that occur elsewhere every single day? Should the proximity of death be a factor for our level of emotional involvement?
It sounds callous to say, but I didn't know this person. People wouldn't necessarily admit this, but, though most people would put up a good front of genuine contrived concern, they don't care either. Five minutes after mustering their best "poor person, I feel genuine sadness at this moment" face, they would have gone about their business, planning dinner and worrying about the noisy kids next door. And that's the way it should be. Am I an asshole for not being hypocritical about it?
And this says nothing of the poilice officer's condescending tone at the moment. Presumably, he felt that I should have expressed concern rather than annoyance, but why? Did he feel concern, other than for the formal show of empathy that he has to present for the public? He sees death every day; even the possibility of his own. Does he really care that this person chose to end his/her life? The answer is, unequivocally: No. It would make his job impossible to bear if he were. But he still puts on a sad face, because that's what you do in his position.
Just don't expect the same from me, is all.
This post is, admittedly, a little dark. I thought it worthwhile to talk about it in this way because, well, that's how I think about these things. Reason is harsh and brutal. I am not. I trust that those who know me will understand this.
Nic
posted by Nic at 9:50 PM
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