Marijuana gets a free pass and Woodstock is cultural iconic event. Young people are enthralled with the '60's. What are we do as responsible adults? We capitalize. We make a buck on the new audience. Movies, books, shirts, clothes. And then we pay the price of our capitulation.
Weed is cool right? If I say "pot" I show my age and my un-hipness. Bob Marley is hip. Ziggy's hip. Hemp is in. Why is hemp in? Hemp is scratchy, hemps smells when it's wet. Hemp is weed.
Hemp wasn't cool when weed was killing my son. I don't like hemp. Glamorizing pot consumption and profiteering on the nostalgia of drug culture for entertainment is disrespectful. People die and we laugh at the pot head culture.
I don't find entertainment in drug culture. A pot head is not funny. Distributing weed is not a minor transgression against society because it is participating in the destruction of a human being, a soul, and a family. That's disgusting.
One of the most horrific moments of a funeral is when the lid of the casket is closed and sealed for the last time. I remember seeing my son's face for the first time at the exact moment of his birth. I saw his face when the casket closed. And that's when the laughter dies.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Patience. Tolerance. Humility.
A coroner could be expected to be callous. In a county the size of Dane the coroner must attest to several hundred deaths each year. The grace of God is not that the person is able to do the job at all, but that he or she is able bring compassion to the duty day in and day out. John Stanley was such a man. Blessed with grace he did God's work for years and soothed the misery of thousands of people when the need was the greatest.
I had heard from people who had lost a son or daughter to a traffic crash or accident. A common theme was the grace of the man who delivered the news accompanied by uniformed officers. The man was John Stanley.
When Aaron was killed the wheels of public service turned differently with a person other than John involved. Without compassionate and mercy, grief was wratcheted to horror by an employee doing a job by the book. Time demanded haste so rumors could be set in stone. No personal visit. An urgent phone call, time is running...we must not wait, your son is dead, what do you think? This is what we think. OK, let's talk about autopsy and of course organ donation.
Grief and horror are a potent concoction for furious anger when simmered. The following week John Stanley came into the picture. His calm and care filled manner set us at ease when he walked up to our house. We expressed our feelings, John listened and made an amends for his staff. No excuses. No blame. A heartfelt apology and a promise to do his part to put the rumors to rest and return a measure of dignity to our son. John was doing his job and God's work in our home. Patience, tolerance, and humility. I will always remember what John showed by being the man he was.
Rest in Peace, John Stanley. You carried God into the homes of broken people.
I had heard from people who had lost a son or daughter to a traffic crash or accident. A common theme was the grace of the man who delivered the news accompanied by uniformed officers. The man was John Stanley.
When Aaron was killed the wheels of public service turned differently with a person other than John involved. Without compassionate and mercy, grief was wratcheted to horror by an employee doing a job by the book. Time demanded haste so rumors could be set in stone. No personal visit. An urgent phone call, time is running...we must not wait, your son is dead, what do you think? This is what we think. OK, let's talk about autopsy and of course organ donation.
Grief and horror are a potent concoction for furious anger when simmered. The following week John Stanley came into the picture. His calm and care filled manner set us at ease when he walked up to our house. We expressed our feelings, John listened and made an amends for his staff. No excuses. No blame. A heartfelt apology and a promise to do his part to put the rumors to rest and return a measure of dignity to our son. John was doing his job and God's work in our home. Patience, tolerance, and humility. I will always remember what John showed by being the man he was.
Rest in Peace, John Stanley. You carried God into the homes of broken people.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Fade to Black
Walking, talking, laughing, pontificating and then silence. April, and May 2001 Aaron, Zach, Eric, Justin--four friends captured on video a few days in the life. Patrick and his buds make appearances. Mom and Dad show their charm. School was almost over. The boys would be turning 14 and 15 in days. Skate boards, movies, video games, jobs, life was easy for the fellas.
Patrick and Cathy have begun the inevitable journey through the video archives. They went in first. Patrick reported to me that the road was safe and fun. Not painful. I took my place on the couch in Patrick's re-decorated basement rec room. A much more comfortable couch. The instant I heard Aaron's voice, his dialect I got tears. His mannerisms were there, his smile, his facial expressions, the ear twisting, nose scrunching. Everything that doesn't show up on still photos. There he was. His mind worked in way unique to Aaron. I can't describe it. But I saw it again and remembered.
Equipped with the video camera Aaron took us on a tour of life through his eyes and I am incredibly sad. Aaron is behind the camera, he puts in on his friends, people passing by, his brother and friends, and himself. Thank God he did that. I need to see his eyes. I need to hear his perspective. Looking into the camera Aaron gives advice to Movie and Video game makers--"If you're gonna do a sequel----Don't do it! They're stupid. It's dumb."
The video turned into art without anyone trying. At one point Aaron and Zach are downloading music and Billy Joel's Only The Good Die Young comes on. The boys are singing along, Aaron with the camera on himself sings the words "Only The Good Die Young" abd then he turns off the camera. After a few more episodes of Aaron and Zach the story reaches an ending on May 4 2001 with a sleep over at our house. Zach, Eric, Aaron. In the kitchen "Cathy says Aaron this is your last Thursday being 13." Zach chimes in--"This is my last Thursday being 14." Much chatter and fun. Then the camera goes off as if the story ends.
After a pause of a few moments the camera is recording again. The date is November 3, 2003. The lens is pointing into a cushion. Just black scene but you can hear a television at a low volume. Footsteps can be heard walking past the camera and up the stairs...the voices on the tube are adult. No young boys. There are no sounds of laughter. No banter. No levity. No innocence. Just black.
I despise how drugs steal young people. Drugs steal the innocence, the soul, the youth. Aaron didn't die from the drug. He had regained that youthful vigor for a while. Maybe he could have continued one day at a time. We don't know. One day laughing, pontificating, telling stories...then dead. Fade to black.
I want Aaron to make the sequel.
Patrick and Cathy have begun the inevitable journey through the video archives. They went in first. Patrick reported to me that the road was safe and fun. Not painful. I took my place on the couch in Patrick's re-decorated basement rec room. A much more comfortable couch. The instant I heard Aaron's voice, his dialect I got tears. His mannerisms were there, his smile, his facial expressions, the ear twisting, nose scrunching. Everything that doesn't show up on still photos. There he was. His mind worked in way unique to Aaron. I can't describe it. But I saw it again and remembered.
Equipped with the video camera Aaron took us on a tour of life through his eyes and I am incredibly sad. Aaron is behind the camera, he puts in on his friends, people passing by, his brother and friends, and himself. Thank God he did that. I need to see his eyes. I need to hear his perspective. Looking into the camera Aaron gives advice to Movie and Video game makers--"If you're gonna do a sequel----Don't do it! They're stupid. It's dumb."
The video turned into art without anyone trying. At one point Aaron and Zach are downloading music and Billy Joel's Only The Good Die Young comes on. The boys are singing along, Aaron with the camera on himself sings the words "Only The Good Die Young" abd then he turns off the camera. After a few more episodes of Aaron and Zach the story reaches an ending on May 4 2001 with a sleep over at our house. Zach, Eric, Aaron. In the kitchen "Cathy says Aaron this is your last Thursday being 13." Zach chimes in--"This is my last Thursday being 14." Much chatter and fun. Then the camera goes off as if the story ends.
After a pause of a few moments the camera is recording again. The date is November 3, 2003. The lens is pointing into a cushion. Just black scene but you can hear a television at a low volume. Footsteps can be heard walking past the camera and up the stairs...the voices on the tube are adult. No young boys. There are no sounds of laughter. No banter. No levity. No innocence. Just black.
I despise how drugs steal young people. Drugs steal the innocence, the soul, the youth. Aaron didn't die from the drug. He had regained that youthful vigor for a while. Maybe he could have continued one day at a time. We don't know. One day laughing, pontificating, telling stories...then dead. Fade to black.
I want Aaron to make the sequel.
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