My first venture into writing in a blog/journal style was immediately following Hurricane Katrina in 2005, when I was deployed on the Mississippi Gulf Coast for response and recovery efforts in the days before the storm, and for months after. I wrote a series of ongoing emails to friends and family, so they would be aware of my situation, and as a way to record my own thoughts and observations during that time.
Sometime in 2007, on another website, I started writing "publicly". I hadn't fully jumped into the blog world until I decided to start this blog in October, 2008. Recently, I took time to look back to those early days, way back four years ago, to find my old writings. I discovered that today, March 17, is my blogging birthday! So, to celebrate, I've decided to share some of those early posts with you. In the coming months, I'll share others from 2007.
These first two were posted on the same day, March 17, 2007. They reflect my thoughts on two rescue calls we made sometime near that date.
6:36 AM, Alone
6:36am, and a wonderful night's sleep is broken by the dispatcher's voice through the pager. Just down the street, an unknown medical emergency, the caller hung up but sounded very distraught. Only one thing causes such reactions at 6:36am. Someone has died. Alone, in a room, unable to plea for help. The wails of a mother who found her adult child still echo...the miracles of modern medicine rendered unimportant...
What was just hours ago a quiet street is filled with the cars of those paying their respects, those who were shocked by the news, and mournful family members from other places.
The rituals of death will be this family's friend for the coming days, then, again, someone will be alone...
What do those eyes see?
"Rescue 1 - child vs car on a county road"
A young boy and his brother were only looking to help an elderly gentleman with yard chores, but he already had help so he sent them on their happy-go-lucky sunny-Saturday way.
One brother's eyes now see something I can't see. But his eyes saw us, I guess. Or were they seeing something else? Something much more bright and fair, or more dark and sinister? They weren't focused on us, but to somewhere, further beyond - through - us, to something we cannot know yet. Those eyes weren't focused on the deputies, or the undertakers. Maybe (I hope) his eyes couldn't see his parents, from whom I had to turn my eyes and hide them behind tinted glasses...as we his were hid behind the white cotton sheet, clean and bright against the dark pavement.
What do those young eyes see?
No comments:
Post a Comment