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Show THE ZEPHYR JUNE 1995 PAGE 8 P A. Subject to Change Cherie Gilmore i i j By It is more than a month since the bombing of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. Even as I write that, a voice whispers, "Let it go". But too many factors contribute to my inability to let it go. There is the picture that none of us can forget, of the lifeless child cradled tenderly in the arms of the fireman, her little face turned to his chest in a position so familiar to any mother. There is the image of the rescue dogs at the memorial service, and the cruel confusion of roles. Dogs and kids belong together, playing, celebrating life and searching for new adventures. This other form of search, this strange relationship is so alien, so incomprehensible. There is the reality that every day 1 go to work in a federal building and every day 1 pass the i 16 miles south of Moab on the La Sal Loop Rd. DINNER to PM Nightly, 6:30 - 8:30 j i i FOR GUARANTEED SEATING CALL FOR A RESERVATION 259-55- 05 i (Drop in's welcome) i i i "Come browse with the deer. " doors of the day care center and hear the happy squeals of children, and know that in this building their mothers work with the thought that their children are close and safe. And there is of course the anger. And that is what is so hard to let go. The shock and sadness, the indescribable sadness that will fade with time, at least for most of us. For the parents who have to go home every night and look at the little empty bed, the pillow that still holds the scent of their baby, the sorrow will distort into different, more manageable emotions maybe, but always be there as a permanent backdrop to their lives. The term healing" will continue to be tossed about, as if those lives can be recaptured with enough bed rest. As if this is one isolated case of mumps, or something, if not familiar, at least identifiable. And that is where the anger comes in again. Because this is not something we can quarantine and wait out. This will not end when John Doc II is caught. This hatred, this evil that our president refers to, does not exist only in little pockets of right wing fanatics. It exists in the hearts of the northern Utahns who call a local radio station to voice their support for the Oklahoma City lunacy. These are my neighbours, people I pass in the grocery store, calmly sitting down, dialing the phone and telling the announcer, "I'd like to blow up a few feds myself. I hope they never catch him." These are my former neighbours in Moab, casually commcnting.Tt's too bad about the feds the but kids, got what they deserved." These are people who have lived with this hatred in their souls for so long that they no longer see it as anything disturbing. These are people who are so far gone that any attempt to understand them is doomed and a waste of valuable time and resources. There is, however, a more insidious but still treatable ailment among us. It manifests itself in a million acts that never make the news. It really has nothing to do with politics. It probably doesn't even have much to do with hate, but with lack of love. It is seeing a homeless person on the sidewalk in front of a mall and refusing to meet his eyes. It is seeing a child being slapped and choosing not to interfere. It ' HOME ON THE RANGE 125 N. 259-88- Main St 64 FUN FURNISHINGS: By Golly, Extraordinary furniture, Blankets, could use a trim I Rugs, Baskets, Lamps, Clocks, Mirrors ... EVERYTHING BUT THE KITCHEN SINK. (And we're working on it) myself. 10 DISCOUNT ON YOUR BIRTHDAY J |