I don't think there is anything that so grips the living as images of the dead.
The wrath of Mother Nature played out again and again on TV screens across the globe showing how 150,000 and counting lost their lives on this globe.
I have little to add to all the coverage, save maybe this all too obvious point: You just never know.
Think of all the thousands who visited these hot tourist spots, assuming sun and fun, whose survivors are now thinking only search and recovery.
How quickly life changes. In an instant, from long planned vacations to hastily planned funerals. In the proverbial blink of an eye.
Tragic for the residents who lived there. Tragic for the vacationers who simply wanted to chill there.
I remember when Evil Knievel attempted to cross the Snake River Canyon back in the 70s, he was asked about the peril of his mission. "If it doesn't work out," he said, "I'll just be one step ahead of the rest of you."
Profound statement then. Profound statement now.
We really don't know the time, or the place. The occasion, or the moment. We only know just that it's coming.
Reason enough for so many of us to stop thinking about it coming altogether.
So we focus on the next trip: The next family get-together. We save and we toil. We plan and we hope.
Nothing good comes of tragedies such as these, save the realization that at any time, anywhere, at any moment, what we cling to ... goes.
Enough "maybe" to make us think more, hug more, do more. While we still can. While we're still here.
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