The Reel.........

People can really surprise you. Acts of courage or compassion, selfless acts that make your throat get a little tight with pride, because we are, after all, in this thing together. Right? Maybe most of us won't ever be faced with a life or death decision, run into that burning building, or give a kidney to a complete stranger. Still, we can take a little pride in knowing we aren't much different than the people we read about. If faced with the same situation, we would respond with that same selfless bravery. Right?

In those hours before dawn, when sleep won't come, or it only comes in brief spurts, laying in bed , staring at the ceiling, wondering what it all means, news reels playing in our brains, one tragedy after another. Thinking about the hard truths of our own lives, or those close to us, we all have our moments of doubt. Don't we?
What's it all mean?
Why am I here?
Is this all there is?
Why are people so fucked up?
Those are questions that could drive a person insane, or at the very least, send them plummeting into a deep dark abyss of depression. Especially at 3 in the morning. So we reach inside ourselves for some consolation, something to substitute our mothers soothing hand and calming voice that gave us comfort when we had bad dreams as children. Something to make the doubt and fear diminish. Some find that comfort in their God. Some find it in their memory of family members or friends, either still among us or long departed. If we are lucky we roll over and curl up against the warm body in our bed, the familiar rhythm of breath somehow connecting us to earth. When all else fails, I think about some story I read, or some bit on the nightly news. One of those feel good stories, one of those stranger donates a kidney, or dog saves family from house fire stories. If I replay that reel in my head a few times, things don't seem so bad. All of those late night fears about my own mortality or our capacity for doing horrible shit to one another, fade away into the dark. And even though things may not be ALL right with the world, at least they don't seem all bad. With a little luck, sleep comes, if not there's always coffee and a keyboard. Shit evens out. There is still some sense of hope and purpose.


I had one of those nights last night. The local news had been covering the death of a one year old girl. Any time a baby dies it's a tough thing to get your mind around. When the child dies a violent death, it becomes impossible to really grasp it. When that child dies at the hand of a parent, it becomes unfathomable. I'll never be mistaken for a Mother Theresa, and don't get me wrong, I don't lay awake nights due to the worlds suffering. But when I can't sleep, it always seems like I'll get around to considering one bit of bad news or another. This case just happened to the one.

From the Star:

A Lee’s Summit man has been charged with assaulting his 1-year-old daughter, who died this morning at Children’s Mercy Hospital. Mark A. Guenther, 22, was charged Tuesday with three counts of first-degree assault for allegedly hitting the girl in the head with his hands, hitting her head against the floor and choking her.

As bad as that is, the act alone doesn't shock the senses like it should. Parents killing their children is pretty common these days. The devil is in the details, and the details played on the reel last night.

After initially telling police that she had fallen while standing up in the bathtub, striking her chin and neck before landing on the floor, Guenther allegedly told police he had punched the girl twice in the back of the head while she was in her high chair.

Twice, because once just wasn't enough?

She continued to cry, so he took her out of the chair and struck her head on the carpeted living room floor three or four times.

He told police that the bruising around the neck was caused when he held her down with his hands on her neck as she struggled during a breathing treatment for asthma.

The devil is in the details, and the details will keep you awake.

As the days and details unfold there will be the typical interviews and comments from people who knew Guenther, and like reading from a generic script, the commenter will say they never saw it coming, or, they will claim he doted on the child, was a loving father.

But there were signs, there are always signs.

A few years back he was convicted of Domestic Battery. Maybe he smacked around the mother, or a different woman. Whoever it was, whatever the details, it's a sign that he had it in him.

There's always signs.

So the reel plays in the dark, as a wild haired lady televangelist paces across the stage on the television, giving the room a somewhat comforting glow. The reel finally stops, until there is just the glow from the Television, the drone of the woman's voice coming from the speaker. Maybe there will be a kidney donated to a stranger story in the morning.