- …..he didn’t know how to swim—had never been taught one stroke in his entire fuckin’ life—yet he still instantly and instinctively jumped into the water to save his drowning daughter. And what else would you expect the guy to do? Isn’t that what fathers—and mothers too of course—are supposed to do? Would you rather have him stand safely in the boat and watch his indescribably precious progeny—a product of his own loins and the next link in the chain of life; one of only a tiny handful of people designated to carry his DNA into the future—die a tragic death right in front of his eyes while he stood by doing nothing to promote saving her? Now, understand, this man realized clearly that his valiant rescue attempt was tantamount to suicide—he stood about as much chance of “swimming” as a five-gallon bucket of lead ballast might—but do you think he really cared about that? Do you think that was his uppermost priority? Even in the mere split second he had available to process roughly a million conflicting thoughts before diving into the water, he understood in absolute terms that he would majorly prefer dying while attempting to rescue his thrashing, panicky daughter than live for an indefinite number of years afterward knowing full well that he had stood by passively watching……doing nothing of substance to preserve and extend her life. There was no way he could ever live with that knowledge, no way he could ever look into a mirror in the future and respect the figure looking back at him. To the contrary, the loathing—hatred even—he would undoubtedly direct at that cravenly individual would be mind-boggling…..colossal…..off the charts. The decision he faced that fateful day then—the decision to commit what would almost certainly amount to an unplanned suicide, short of divine intervention—was probably the easiest decision he had been asked to make in his whole adult life, easier even than what to order for supper at the greasy-spoon Mexican restaurant on West Third Street his family had stopped to eat at just the other night. He could not fathom for the life of him (or death too, as it sadly turned out) how anyone could feel differently about the subject and still call themself a normal, compassionate, species-serving human being…..
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Fred's Soapbox 