to vote for favorites. Only 6 votes needed to get on the list.I did not get caught. I did not become addicted. I did not kill a boy. Circumstance and luck are more responsible than destiny or good judgement. Less separates us than we believe. I did not kill a boy, but I might have.
Four masked individuals approached my friend and I on Halloween night in the quiet park where I usually walked my dog. Their slight stature and tone of voice gave them away as teenagers. They asked for our wallets. We thought it was a joke, and dismissed them.
One of the boys had a can of pepper spray, the big silver ones used to ward off bears. The liquid hit me and I lunged towards the kid holding it. I covered the distance in two steps and grabbed him, but by then I knew I was in trouble. Even a mist of pepper spray burns your skin and eyes. It hit me full in the face and I was already blind.
Grappling on the ground with my eyes squeezed shut, it felt like I was fighting for my life. I found that boy’s throat, put my fingers on either side of his windpipe, and squeezed as hard as I could.
I don’t know what happened next. I received many blows to the head that evening, and I believe the first one happened in that moment. I heard the sounds of him struggling in vain for air, and then my memories end, everything goes black.
At the time, there was no contemplation in what I did. Choking him was a conclusion reached like stepping stones across a small stretch of water, spaced apart so you have to take them in a series of running leaps, each one the inevitable continuation of a movement already started. Place the stones differently and I would have made those leaps instead. Change one thing and I would have ended in a different place.
The friend I was with that night is a solid Scottish fellow. If I was to fight him, I would receive a whooping. So, when I realized I was in trouble, I didn’t worry about him, he could handle himself.
My wife was out of town, but normally I would have been in the park with her that night. I would have been with my petite wife, and not my brawny friend. I had my fingers buried in the vitality of that boy, a spot full of air and blood. If I had heard my love calling out to me in that moment, even just a whisper, instead of taking the time to choke him into unconsciousness, I might have made different leaps. I might have ripped that boy’s throat out.
Empathy is the recognition of your humanity in another. I now better understand how little separates me from the criminal, the addict, the killer. I have let go of the notion that I am me, and you are you, and the gap between us is inevitable. Less separates us than we believe. The difference is often as small as a whisper.
I’ve already written about this, but am revisiting it for a few reasons:
- I entered another speech competition and this makes for great dramatic subject matter.
- I was talking with a Vice Principal friend of mine about speeches to high school students and this is part of a longer term project to develop something. I’m thinking I can use this one event to talk about empathy, choices, and character. I thought it would be a good challenge.
- The real inspiration for writing this came while listening to an episode of This American Life (Devil On My Shoulder) in which a man describes the murder he was convicted of, not as a series of decisions that resulted in an action, but more as an event he got swept up into. It sounded familiar to me, and the man’s story affected me.
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[...] week something other than baby stuff I think. I’m trying to write a speech about Empathy for a Toastmasters competition. I’m struggling to find some way to lighten it up a little, [...]