I think the world is actually spinning faster now than it was when we were kids. Everything seems to move more quickly and relentlessly forward, good or bad.
The summer vacations we used to look forward to as schoolkids will be here in an eye blink and gone again. Why put the snow shovels and winter clothes away, aside from a glance out the window, as the next winter will be here before the ink is dry on the calendar page.
At some point in recent days, I read a story on the murder trial in South Africa of Oscar Pistorius, charged with the shooting death of his girlfriend, Reeva Steenkamp, in which he described himself as 'having a tough time' as the prosecution seemed to carving holes in his defense large enough to drive a truck through. I realized a moment ago I'm still processing that whole story.
I make no judgements in terms of guilt and innocence. How could I? I don't know the man but know of his struggles and his triumph over daunting circumstances in becoming a paralympic sprinter. But still, cynic that I am, my black as coal heart and soul prominently displayed finds the idea that he sees himself in any way as the victim to be just beyond the surreal.
With apologies to Willie and the Globe Theater, Queen Gertrude's acerbic observation comes to mind as I recall with a start, perhaps better than Oscar himself does, that while he may feel persecuted, it is his affianced who is dead and feels nothing. And by his hand, though I'm thinking he'd prefer to gloss over that detail as well.
Again, I don't have any idea of the merits of the case or the legal burden of proof in this instance but the gracelessness under pressure being displayed gives me pause before extending sympathy to a man who is doing quite a fine job of feeling sorry for himself. Besides, I'm told he's very competitive and I'd hate to start something I couldn't finish.
-bill kenny
Ramblings of a badly aged Baby Boomer who went from Rebel Without a Cause to Bozo Without a Clue in, seemingly, the same afternoon.
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