Has anyone given thought to the embarrassing nature of death these days, especially in, but not limited to, the young? We -- the denizens of Western society -- have developed something like an instinctual abhorrence of death and its discussion. It (a pronoun will now be used so as to accommodate the delicate), in other words, is no longer the respectable, inevitable part of life it once was but is now a mortifying pronouncement of the weakly constitutioned. It, shockingly, has become in some circles an object of sarcasm and ridicule and in even larger circles is now considered escapable and indeed subduable! In this short piece, I intend to explore the modern-day attitude toward the gaping, life-sucking black hole we call death -- I mean "IT."
A recent, personal bout with IT occurred just last summer when, while canoeing down the Connecticut with friends, I spied the rope swing and decided to have a go. I must say that the very idea of swinging out over the water and being projected through the air sounded fun and exciting at the time, but what I failed to remember was that I don't swim very well. In fact, I don't swim well at all, and sure enough, when I hit the water (or more accurately, descended into it--I didn't have a good swing, you see), I began sinking. So at that point, one can imagine that I began flailing my arms and franticly calling for the help of my comrades. Long story short, I lived.
But what if I had died? I can imagine The Dartmouth's front-page headline now: ALFRED VALRIE '01, DIES AFTER HAVING BARELY PASSED SCHOOL SWIM TEST AND BEING STUPID ENOUGH TO JUMP OFF ROPE SWING AND HUMANITY IS BETTER OFF WITHOUT HIM. (Or something like that.)
That would not be the headline, of course, but I'm sure it would be the final public judgment of me. In the end, the tragedy of my IT would be overshadowed by public opinion of both my stupidity and lack of swimming skills. I would be determined weak in that I was unable to overcome the circumstances of my IT. In addition, the very idea of demise at such a young age would be lamented more than the IT itself. My IT wouldn't be accorded the respect and acknowledgement that a soul deserves upon its departure from a corporeal existence but instead would be reckoned by some as a true test of Darwin's principle of "survival of the fittest." And when one looks at the situation pragmatically (and pessimistically), I could have been accused, had I perished, of unfairly using up valuable resources for 19years, because I died before being able to contribute fully to society.
"Poor soul," they would say. "He has partaken -- at such a young age -- of the most undesirable of the undesirable -- IT." And this is the way I would be viewed for ages to come. A poor soul who prematurely partook of something about which mankind knows nothing but that which we can observe with our eyes. In a sense, I would be shamed, because I was no longer in possession of what we view as most valuable -- life. I would even be considered foolish, moreover, because I managed to lose this most precious of commodities. But why is life viewed in this way in a society that burgeoned under a religion, Christianity, which promises everlasting life? Shouldn't we be lining up to die? Or is it that we have perverted the idea that life is a gift from God to such an extent that we now believe it is our duty to do whatever we can to both sustain it and keep it from harm? Or is it that a very low-level atheistic logic runs rampant in the hearts of us God-fearing Americans? Only time will tell
The essential problem with IT is that none of us are given an equal amount of praise and respect upon our ITs. Some, like Princess Diana and President Nixon, get elaborate state funerals and others, like Joe the wino, get common graves and deprecating eulogies like "Good riddance." Why doesn't half the world mourn the loss of Mrs. Johnson's eight-day-old baby who died of pneumonia in the IT (intensive care) ward? (The "IT" correlation is frightening.) What is the governing body that will deem my IT more important than yours (or vice versa)? If I were to be laid out like Diana, I wouldn't half mind dying today. Perhaps our fear of death stems from the fear that no one will remember us. My point, I suppose, is that no matter the time of IT, the circumstances of IT, death is not a succumbing to the vacuous forces of the inanimate but is simply a transition to another state of existence. The Christians, including myself, believe that one joins God in heaven. There are those who believe we return to clay. Whatever your belief, the following will someday be said of you:
"Alas, poor [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]; I knew him, Horatio. Get me a coffee."
