Well, we certainly seem to be steeped in it this week. First that case down in Florida, which breaks my heart for all kinds of personal reasons, and now the Pope. I'm a devout non-believer, a collapsed Catholic, but I was in Rome a number of years ago, and saw the man address an adoring crowd in four languages, and just...play them. He was an Elvis kind of Pope--and I mean, Elvis in his prime.
Is it a bad thing, all this grief, all this discussion about how the body and mind eventually fail us, despite all the makeover shows we have at our disposal? I don't think so. The media voyeurism is icky, and, of course, I can't help but note that these kind of stories ("Sparky the puppy...still in the hospital") are discount journalism: plop your newsmeister in front of the building, and let him talk. And talk. And talk. But these kind of stories, by their nature, are quite explicit about what happens to a body when it begins to die. And I can think of few subjects so taboo in our culture. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We all get there someday.
posted by Martha @ 11:13 PM
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