accidents and aftermath: part II

Some people choose to blog about deeply personal issues and post them for the world to discover. Personally, I find that ridiculous and embarrassing. Freedom of expression is cool. I like it. However, it leads me to appreciate privacy even more, when it seems no random thought goes unpublished and no confession goes unshared. I could be accused, therefore, of speaking about people and things I know nothing about. I want to say however that I don’t hold comment on this young man's story by way of making an example of him or holding him up for ridicule. In fact, he has prompted serious consideration on my part, not only because of the gravity of this event and the price of his (and Jordan’s) actions, but because of the response of all those so significantly impacted by them. So I hope that by mentioning them, I do no additional harm. Ask yourself this: What is your code? Has your loyalty to that code been complete until now, or has the veil been torn aside, revealing to you and perhaps even to others that you aren’t always who you say you are?

I think many people have the luxury of a life lived according to a code. They are the people who read something in the news and say, “That’s so awful. I cannot imagine that. I would certainly never do that.” I’ve been in my office while conversations like this took place. I’ve always listened quietly without comment. I respect their confidence, but I am aware of its fragility.

I think if you’d approached Johnnie a few weeks ago, he would have told you that doing the right thing was more important than the thrill of the moment. I would think someone of his age would place a pretty high value on the loyalty of a friend. And then a week before graduation he got in a car to do a little drag racing on wet roads. His code did not protect him. Nor did it protect his best friend.

So what happens when you break the code you swore you'd never break? Well, I think the first impulse is to look for witnesses. Finding none, the second impulse is to hide the evidence. Who hasn’t done this? You give yourself a stern lecture, assure yourself that the lesson has been learned, and you move forward a better man – a better woman – for what you learned. That’s what you tell yourself anyway, as you go scott-free.

A luxury to be sure. But what about the times when you aren’t so lucky? What happens when people you love have a front row seat for your spectacularly bad behavior?

I submit this for your consideration. Have you ever thought to turn that situation into a good time to assess your friendship?

I’ll back up. A code is a bad thing to break. It really is. It changes how we view ourselves. It shakes what we thought we stood for. It calls our convictions into doubt. And you’re going to be dealing with that for as long as it takes to come to grips with your own fallibility and frailty. You aren’t a hero, and lots of times that’s news to your ears the first time you hear it. I could tell you about the time I first realized this, but it wouldn’t help you. It happened to me. It was personal. I walked that lonesome valley by myself, and fortunately or unfortunately, you have to do the same, and it’s something that will be deeply personal for you too.
That’s not what I’m dwelling on though. What I’m asking is this: how did your friend react when you broke your code?

Let me back up one more time, because I want to make something clear. I’m not asking how you reacted to having a witness. I’m guessing that you didn’t act real pleasant. I’m asking: how did your friend react?

I’m asking, because there’s a family in Texas who won’t be pressing charges against the driver of the vehicle that killed their only son. And as deeply as they felt their loss, they asked the man to be a pall bearer at their son’s funeral. So what do you think of that?

--Laura