A while back, probably in the second or third in this stretch of horrible years ("Not doing so great since 2008") I made myself a simple necklace, a dark silver chain with a life preserver charm on the end of it. To me, the charm was a sign of "you're going to get by" and that at the end of the day, help only could be found withing yourself, and not from others. It was a totem of self-reliance.
With the onslaught of the holidays and the explosion of "good will" that it brings, I'm wondering a lot what it means to help and be helpful. Between news stories and my own personal experiences of reaching or being reached out to, I've been left with lots of questions AND answers. Let me explain.
Up until yesterday, I had decided that it would be impossible for me to get home for Christmas this year. M had offered me a spot at her family's Christmas dinner (an offer so generous it maybe rained on my face a little) and I realized that I couldn't bear the idea of my mother being by herself (after a brief visit with my dad in the home) on Christmas. So I asked for a bit of help (financially) to be able to join her for a few days and of course she was overjoyed that I'd make it home, even if it will be a short trip, and I'll be traveling back Christmas night. It was through the help and generosity of those around me that I could figure out exactly what I needed (emotionally) and how to do it (realistically).
With "help" on my mind, I was sickened with this image on the NY Post front page Tuesday.
I think we can all agree that this is some seriously fucked up shit.
I was watching the news yesterday as I got ready for work, and the photographer claims that he was running towards the man and snapping the pictures using flash in order to warn the train driver (and the driver says he did see the flash) but I frankly don't buy it and I'm still horrified that these photos even exist, and that any newspaper, even one as gross as the post, would publish them. With grotesque details like "DOOMED" and "about to die" this is pure shock value, and I hope that if the photographer made a dime off them, he should give it to the family of the deceased. Doubtful, but you never know. But I'm pretty sure we are all wondering the same thing...
WHY WOULDN'T YOU PUT YOUR CAMERA DOWN AND RUN TO HELP HIM?!?!
WHERE THE HELL WAS EVERYBODY?!?!
This murder (the man was pushed, terrifying) took place at a subway station near Times Square. Having been to that station often, I can tell you it is rarely empty.
I have no answers. I understand shock and fear, but I also understand the adrenaline kick that comes with those situations, and even if (sadly) one were to be unsuccessful, how could you stand by and not try to save a man's life is beyond me. Where was his life preserver? Where were the people who could have helped?
Ugh. Humanity. I'm starting to wonder if maybe the Mayans were right, and our time here should be about up.
