Separation

I killed a deer.  Jay and Dan and I were driving back from lunch in Cooperstown on Tuesday.  We were on Gulf Road, just before the intersection with Schoolhouse Hill Road, where the trees are very close to the road.  I was driving the Prius, listening to the conversation, not scanning the edges of the road, going too fast, not fully present to my surroundings.  The first deer seemed to appear out of nowhere, bounding across the road to safety just inches in front of me.  Before I could form the thought, watch for a second one, a thought I always have when we see a deer, she hit us, taking out the driver’s side mirror, denting both doors. Dan got out and walked softly to where she lay in the road behind us, struggling. I watched in the mirror as he knelt beside her, stroking her, talking to her, taking out his knife. Her leg was clearly broken, but worse, she was aspirating blood. He killed her kindly, holding her tenderly as she died, speaking to her softly.

It can happen.  How many times have I been inattentive and gotten away with it? How many times have I driven a little too fast with no consequences. But this time, a young life was lost. After Joe died, when I knew I was having trouble managing my attention, when I was conscious of the nearness of death, I would give myself a little talk each time I got into the car.  You are doing something dangerous, driving a large object at speed.  You could easily hurt yourself or someone else. Focus on your driving. Pay full attention. But I have long since stopped reminding myself. I think of the deer who made it past me, who found herself in the woods on the other side of the road alone, her heart racing, without her sister.

Separation.  I caused this separation through inattention, and was filled with regret. We are not killing children at the border yet, but we are separating them from their parents, consciously, purposefully, when there are clearly good alternatives. We are doing this.  It’s one of the great perils of democracy.  We are responsible for the government we elect. If we had a cruel king, we could shrug and say, well, that’s the king.  But Trump and Sessions and Miller answer to us, and we are barely holding them accountable. How did it come to this? I can’t help but think of decent German citizens asking themselves the same questions. The language of vermin and infestation is chilling to anyone who has studied a little history. Someone suggested calling the detention centers Trumpcamps, hitting him where it hurts, in his brand, the only thing he seems to care about. Certainly, detention centers is too kind a name.

Even here in paradise, we are not free of evil or separate from it. Not when thinking about the deer I killed brings me to thinking about the terrified children and their terrified parents. I made a donation to Kids in Need of Defense, and I’ll vote on Tuesday in a district we might flip in the fall. And I think of the nice Germans who said, what more can I do?