It is a lamentable fact...
Illustration
Object:
It is a lamentable fact of modern life: the auto accident. If you're driving down an interstate on a busy holiday weekend, chances are you'll see at least one traffic accident, maybe more. Chances are, as well, you'll witness a human behavior that's the bane of the highway patrol, and the cause of more tie-ups than the accident itself: the behavior called "rubbernecking."
That's what they call drivers who lean out the car window, eager to witness some damage. There's something darkly fascinating about that terrible scene: the crumpled metal, the sparkling particles of windshield strewn like fallen stars across the asphalt, the dark puddle that's probably just motor oil (but could be something else).
What's so fascinating about an accident? It's probably not the circumstances of the accident itself. It's the sudden realization that the boundary between life and death is not so far away as we may think. It's not the high, unscalable wall we imagined it to be. Suddenly, regarding the flashing ambulance lights and the sputtering emergency flares, we remember our mortality. And the thought arises from deep within, unbidden: "There, but for the grace of God, go I."
Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? Is it just rubbernecking? Or something more?
That's what they call drivers who lean out the car window, eager to witness some damage. There's something darkly fascinating about that terrible scene: the crumpled metal, the sparkling particles of windshield strewn like fallen stars across the asphalt, the dark puddle that's probably just motor oil (but could be something else).
What's so fascinating about an accident? It's probably not the circumstances of the accident itself. It's the sudden realization that the boundary between life and death is not so far away as we may think. It's not the high, unscalable wall we imagined it to be. Suddenly, regarding the flashing ambulance lights and the sputtering emergency flares, we remember our mortality. And the thought arises from deep within, unbidden: "There, but for the grace of God, go I."
Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? Is it just rubbernecking? Or something more?
