MY BROTHER'S KEEPER

I think about this a lot: Am I my brother's keeper?  

You know that sentence comes from the Bible, right? Here is the quote:

And the Lord said to Cain, “Where is Abel thy brother?” And Cain said, “I know not. Am I my brother’s keeper?” And the Lord said, “… The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” – The Bible, Genesis 4:8-10

And you know that Cain had killed his brother, right? The implication here, it seems to me, is clear: We are all our brother's keeper. At least up to a point. That's where it gets complicated.

Obviously, I would think twice, or three times, before sacrificing my own life to save that of a total stranger, especially another old man. Or a criminal, if I was sure he was a criminal.

I have had students who have been trained to be life guards, in swimming pools and on the beach. If they see an old person and a child drowning, and they only have time to save one, which are they supposed to save? What is the right thing to do?

Save the child, of course.

But how far do we go? Would you send your only son, or daughter, to risk his or her life in Afghanistan, or Iraq, or Libya? I'd have to think twice. Or three times.

Obviously, we can't save the whole world, and when you take life guard training, as I have, too, they tell you, "The last thing we want is two dead people out there."

We don't want to be too selfish here, on the one hand, but on the other hand, we don't want to throw away innocent lives when we could save them, especially at no risk to ourselves.

These can be hard choices, at times, and it's hard to predict what you would do. My own philosophy is to keep an eye out for my neighbors and my fellow man, and to protect my family every time.

I haven't had to run in front of a bus to save a stranger's child yet, but the time may come. You never know.

© Copyright 2011, Roger R. Angle

MY DEATH

There comes a time, as you get older, when you start to measure your life, not from the beginning, but from the end.

You stop thinking of how many years you've lived, in my case 72. You try to figure how many years you have left and what you can do with them.

The standard formula is to split the difference between your parents' life spans. My father died at 72, the age I am now, of a heart attack, and my mother at 85.

My father ate heart attack food every day of his life. You know, bacon and eggs or ham and eggs for breakfast every day. Hamburger or ham or some other kind of meat for lunch. And steak or roast for dinner, along with potatoes and a few vegetables. He didn't get the kind of aerobic exercise we get now. He played golf once a week and volleyball one night a week. He was a big, barrel-chested man, at 5-11 and 185. My mother died when she was 85, and she smoked all her life and ate crappy food and didn't exercise much either.

So I figure I might have 10 more years, or 15. Maybe 20, if I'm lucky. Or 30, if I'm unlucky. Life after 100 doesn't sound like much fun.

As you get older, time goes faster and faster. I've lived in this place 12 years, but it seems like three or four. So I know the time is going to go fast. The grandkids are growing up, and my son is middle-aged, amazingly enough. I'll probably be a great-grandpa soon enough.

The question is, am I going to look forward or look back? Am I going to live my life or my death?

I've got unfinished novels and other books to write, about 10 projects that I'd like to finish. If I only have two years, or three, how much can I get done? What difference does it make if I do them or not? Who does it matter to? Mostly to me, I guess.

None of my works have achieved much in the way of fame or money. I've published poetry and short fiction 20-some times in literary magazines, and I was a journalist for years, nominated for a Pulitzer Prize once, in 1967. Didn't win. But I did win the Random House short fiction contest in 1999. (Link:)
http://www.randomhouse.com/boldtype/contest/0999/sstory1.html

None of my big novels has been published. So far. There is always hope. So I don't know if I'll leave behind an impressive body of work, something I wanted to do when I was young.

Anyway, I have decided not to worry about how many years I have left. I've decided to live my life, as if I had plenty of time, and to look forward to each day and make the most of it.

It's the positive choice. Otherwise, you are just waiting to die, which means you are already dead.

© Copyright 2011, Roger R. Angle