Not too long ago one of the houses in my subdivision caught fire. I heard there was an electrical short in the garage someplace, a flame started and spread to the house. The family got out with some smoke inhalation and burns, but they survived and are expected to recover, even though the house and all their possessions were a total loss.
This event clearly changed that family’s life forever. Their memories will always be contextualized as either “before” or “after” the fire. Justifiably so; it’s a profoundly traumatic event to have your possessions destroyed and your life irrevocably changed, not to mention the potential for personal harm (in this case, for the most part fortunately avoided).
They were neighbors. I had never met them; in fact could only vaguely recall the house they lived in, even though it was right on the path I take every night when I come home from work. It’s a little more personal than what you read in the newspaper because it was so close to where we live, but it was still one of those events that you see, think about for a little, say “oh, how sad for them,” and move on. And I don’t mean to trivialize that process; it’s probably part of a defense mechanism we have to keep us from living in a state of constant anxiety.
But they had a dog.
More than one, actually. A couple of other pets as well, but it was the dogs that caught my attention. Their high school-age daughter suffered burns on her back, face and arms when she ran back into the house to try to rescue their dogs. She was partially successful; one dog survived but a couple of others died from the smoke. As I said above, she will recover but the pets she risked her life for were lost.
We have dogs. The MoLos (Moses and Lola) are part of our family. We have no human children, so we treat our dogs as surrogates. Oh, we’re not the “dress them up for Halloween” dog owners, and yes, we do realize they are not humans, and on and on, but I would be devastated to have either of them die in a fire. Or get hit by a car. When I heard that this family lost several pets in the fire it brought a completely different and much more personal awareness of their tragedy to me. It’s the exact same event, but discovering that they lost a dog in the fire made me think about it more, and it became more personal, in a way.
It strikes me that this defense mechanism we have, of protecting ourselves from tragedies, is partly because we don’t see ourselves in the event. It happened “somewhere else” to “people I don’t know.” We think, “How sad for them, but it wasn’t me.” But when some part of the event strikes a chord with us, and we now identify with it in a personal way, it has a deeper effect on us, and I think awakens a more empathetic side of us. I’m not suggesting that we should abandon that defensive distance we create around other’s tragedies, but it doesn’t hurt every so often to allow ourselves to be more in touch.
I think the world would be a better place if we could do that just a little more often.
About BigBill
Stats: Married male boomer.
Hobbies: Hiking, woodworking, reading, philosophy, good conversation.
I didn’t know them.
Not too long ago one of the houses in my subdivision caught fire. I heard there was an electrical short in the garage someplace, a flame started and spread to the house. The family got out with some smoke inhalation and burns, but they survived and are expected to recover, even though the house and all their possessions were a total loss.
This event clearly changed that family’s life forever. Their memories will always be contextualized as either “before” or “after” the fire. Justifiably so; it’s a profoundly traumatic event to have your possessions destroyed and your life irrevocably changed, not to mention the potential for personal harm (in this case, for the most part fortunately avoided).
They were neighbors. I had never met them; in fact could only vaguely recall the house they lived in, even though it was right on the path I take every night when I come home from work. It’s a little more personal than what you read in the newspaper because it was so close to where we live, but it was still one of those events that you see, think about for a little, say “oh, how sad for them,” and move on. And I don’t mean to trivialize that process; it’s probably part of a defense mechanism we have to keep us from living in a state of constant anxiety.
But they had a dog.
More than one, actually. A couple of other pets as well, but it was the dogs that caught my attention. Their high school-age daughter suffered burns on her back, face and arms when she ran back into the house to try to rescue their dogs. She was partially successful; one dog survived but a couple of others died from the smoke. As I said above, she will recover but the pets she risked her life for were lost.
We have dogs. The MoLos (Moses and Lola) are part of our family. We have no human children, so we treat our dogs as surrogates. Oh, we’re not the “dress them up for Halloween” dog owners, and yes, we do realize they are not humans, and on and on, but I would be devastated to have either of them die in a fire. Or get hit by a car. When I heard that this family lost several pets in the fire it brought a completely different and much more personal awareness of their tragedy to me. It’s the exact same event, but discovering that they lost a dog in the fire made me think about it more, and it became more personal, in a way.
It strikes me that this defense mechanism we have, of protecting ourselves from tragedies, is partly because we don’t see ourselves in the event. It happened “somewhere else” to “people I don’t know.” We think, “How sad for them, but it wasn’t me.” But when some part of the event strikes a chord with us, and we now identify with it in a personal way, it has a deeper effect on us, and I think awakens a more empathetic side of us. I’m not suggesting that we should abandon that defensive distance we create around other’s tragedies, but it doesn’t hurt every so often to allow ourselves to be more in touch.
I think the world would be a better place if we could do that just a little more often.
About BigBill
Stats: Married male boomer. Hobbies: Hiking, woodworking, reading, philosophy, good conversation.