Risk Rap

Rapping About a World at Risk

Suicide of a Friend

mounts_bay_sunrise_2This is one of those mornings in our lives when we welcome a rising sun with grim dread. This is one of those mornings where we become loosed from our moorings of certainty. This is one of those mornings where words fail and the throne of faith is overthrown by shame and guilt. This is a morning to put on a nice suit and proper tie to attend a funeral of a friend who died by suicide. So final. So silent doth the dead speak to us. Crying out their pain with a clarity we never heard or understood as they walked among us here on earth. My friend continues to speak to us from the beyond.

This man was more then a friend. He was a father, husband, brother and a son. He held many occupations, enjoyed diversions, displayed passions and imperfections like all human beings. He was also a child of God. Though tormented and sick he was never forsaken. He deeply loved many and was unconditionally loved by many. In the end an addled brain led to a desperate alienation. Self medicating himself to find sanctuary in the hollow solace of prescription drugs and booze. It would in the end consume him. Enabling him to close the door on a life that family and friends diligently tried to keep ajar. All we wanted in return was his continued presence among us. My friend choose to slam the door shut.

Anger rises. We put so much into him. How could he slap us in the face like this? As we gathered about his coffin, in hushed whispers we sought out information, confirmation and consolation to alleviate a sense of guilt and quiet the shame that enveloped us. The deceased’s mother, shaking with Parkinson’s disease, stares down at a bare coffin holding the remains of her son. How much did she invest in this boy? She suckled him at her breast. She mothered him under her roof for two decades. She continued to mother him with a pervasive love that continued till the end. Did the child squander this love? Has this mother loved wastefully? I see no anger in her. Only a continued extension of her abundant love. “Sleep well my child. I’ll soon join you.” I could hear her coo silently to herself as she softly touched the burnished wood of her child’s casket. Any anger was mine, certainly not hers.

My friend’s sisters were his loving attendants to the end. They were heroic in a desperate attempt to save their beloved brother. They gave him refuge under their roof. They nursed him within the sanctuary of family. One may think that their deeds of heroism now matter little or count for less. But such shamelessly squandered love is what our hurting world needs more of today. I marvel and cherish their example, as I witness one sister arrange an errant ribbon on the cluster of roses sitting atop the casket. A loving touch, a caring hand, an attending heart remembered to bring their brothers beloved Boston Red Sox cap also placed on the casket.

My friend’s daughters and former wife arrived to the service late. One daughter entered the crowded room nestling flowers. She moved quickly toward her father’s casket. Her expression was like that of a child racing toward a Christmas tree on the blessed morning. Did Santa come? Is it really here? Has this thing arrived? Her breakdown into tears confirmed her worst suspicion. A terrible expectation realized. Her father was really dead. Now laying in state in a room full of awkward people. The other daughter fraught with grief remains in the protective arms of her loving aunt. She sobs into the woman’s bosom. Tears saturate her blouse. Women absorb the pain and transform it into strength and a curious wisdom that remembers how to endure future pains to come.

How do you approach the daughters of the deceased? What can you say that has any meaning to them during the nadir of their young lives? How do you expect them to understand the sincerity of your pain when theirs is fathomless? You fear for them. Has the actions of their father bound them to a lifetime quest to seek answers to questions that cannot be answered, motives that cannot be understood, truths that will remain forever hidden?

The grace of my friend’s former wife was sorely tested. She is devastated to discover her ex husbands casket on display at the front of a crowded room. She sobbed, embracing and kissing many as she made her way toward the casket. Her painful separation from my friend after 27 years of marriage was difficult for her but was a consequence of her husbands spiral of decline. She loved him greatly and it was greatly returned to her by my friend. College sweethearts, they joined together in a youthful promise to love and endure all things as one. I pray she isn’t consumed by the demons of nostalgia and fall into a black hole of guilt. I don’t think that will be. She is a spiritually centered, emotionally healthy woman. She does yoga. Her next life chapters are waiting to be written.

On the day they were married I wore a new gray suit and tie to the affair. During the cocktail party a man played musical glasses. It was a bit quixotic and it stamped their union as something that was uniquely blessed. I liked it very much. I also liked the open bar. I got sloshed. As I would continue to do until I got sober 27 years later.

My friend knew of my sobriety and participation within AA. I asked him to join me at a meeting one week before he died. He left a message on my cell phone. He said he was going off to rehab to start the process of recovery. He said he would call me when he got out. He left the rehab after one day because of insufficient insurance coverage, checked into a hotel room and killed himself.

When I entered the room for the funeral service my friends crying sister met me with an embrace. Her tears stained a new tie I chose for this service. She thanked me for trying to help her brother. She said that her brother called her on the terrible day asking for a slip of paper that had telephone numbers of important people. I was number two on that list. I shudder and ask myself, for the want of a phone call?

As I left the service I stopped by to wonder at a small aviary of tiny exotic birds that was in the lobby. The multicolored birds were nesting and gleefully chattering at the roil of life. They flitted among hanging flowers of verdant vines of ivy. They were beautiful. Seeing such beauty is one of life’s simple affirmations.  My friend is now winging home.

Vaya Con Dios Amigo

You Tube Video: JS Bach Badinerie Wine Glass Music

You Tube Video: Vaughn Williams, Lark Ascending

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August 15, 2009 Posted by | children, culture, faith, family, life, love, psychology, religion, seasons | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

For Where Your Treasure Is

The Death of Marat
Atheism is aristocratic; the idea of a great Being that watches over
oppressed innocence and punishes triumphant crime is altogether popular.

History has is own way of keeping score. The celestial ledgers record every human transaction and movement. The scales swing ever slowly as it constantly seeks a perfect balance of Yin and Yang. Eventually history will find a way to assure that payments are made on any outstanding balances. All overdue accounts will be assiduously credited or debited in exact amounts for proportion due in good time. Poetically the new cosmological balance is restored with a settlement that is more often ironic then just.

So it is with Rene-Thierry Magon de la Villehuchet’s suicide. To date one of the more dramatic consequences of Bernard Madoff’s massive swindle. Mr. Villehuchet apparently lost $1 bn in the fraud perpetrated by the wealth manager from hell. It is understood that a good portion of that tidy sum was comprised of clients assets entrusted to Mr. Villehuchet due to his astute investment acumen and discernment abilities. It is also believed that the massive loss also comprised the bulk of his family’s personal assets as well. Apparently the aristocratic estate of Mr. Villehuchet’s family now stands in ruin. It would seem that the goal of the French Revolution’s street rabble to fully disenfranchise the aristocracy and separate them from their power and privilege with the razor edge of a guillotine was finally realized 230 years later by a New York based hedge fund manager. Let it be noted that Robespierre was a friend of the bourgeoisie so perhaps he finds some tacit comfort from his long occupied grave that Madoff one of his fellow sans-culottes finished the work that the Jacobin’s failed to do.

The French Revolution was one of the signature events of history. It announced the unfettering of the political power of the bourgeoisie made possible by the rise of capitalism. A scant two centuries ago the radical capitalists used the guillotine to enforce a Reign of Terror to supplant the rule of the Aristocracy and establish their reign of liberty to make money.

Capitalism’s history during the past 200 plus years has firmly established the virtuous solemnity of money making. It has created a pantheon of incipient transactional values based on situational ethics and moral relativism. Money and its power has alone become the object of veneration. Much like the Golden Calf that Moses’s people erected, western societies are consumed with the passion of worshiping monetary wealth and all the power and position it confers on the one to whom it belongs. More accurately we should say to whom the objects of wealth own.

It is in this light that we find Mr. Villehuchet’s suicide yet another signature event of our time. Mr. Villehuchet’s life had no purpose outside of his wealth and objects. Very sad. If Mr. Villehuchet killed himself because he lost face with his client’s due to his poor choice of entrusting Mr. Madoff with his client’s assets that’s even sadder. If Mr. Villehuchet killed himself because he was complicit in the fraud scheme that’s the saddest reason of all. But whatever motivated the Viscount of Discount to end his life all point to his warped value system so common and rampant within the banal culture of the old aristocracy and the nouveau riche. How poverty stricken are those whose primary concern is the love of money. Pity them because they are poor in spirit.

Yes Mr. Villehuchet’s self induced passing may signal an urgency to reexamine the values of capitalism. We must begin to invest in values that will produce consistent sustainable returns.

Rest in peace Mr. Villehuchet. If there is an afterlife I’m sure that you and Robespierre will have much to discuss.

You Tube Video: Skeeter Davis: The End of the World

Risk; values, investments

December 27, 2008 Posted by | culture, hedge funds, Madoff | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Honor the Vet

Today is Veterans Day.

Many men and women have made the supreme sacrifice in service to our great republic. Many have served in our Armed Forces and have paid a terrible price with their physical and emotional health. Veterans make up a disproportional percentage of our nations homeless population. Many are encumbered due to emotional illness, depression and substance abuse and unfortunately all too many choose to escape their demons by committing suicide.

Our country needs to pay more then lip service to our Veterans. We need to honor them by providing excellent health care and social services so they can reconstitute their lives and once more live amongst us as full and whole citizens with healthy bodies and sound minds.

We can honor the vet by giving them a job. Offer substance abuse programs. Build affordable housing. Provide health care and psychiatric services that offer the hope of healing broken hearts, bodies and spirits. Help the families of Vets so they may effectively cope with a loved one who has experienced the horrors of war only to return home as a radically different and deeply damaged person.  See our post on the Virginia Tech massacre.

We thank all Veterans for their service to our country.

Honor the Vet by pursuing peace.

Support our troops by bringing them home from Iraq.

You Tube Video: When Johnny Comes Marching Home

Risk: service to country, mental health, social safety net

November 11, 2008 Posted by | folk, holiday | , , , , , , | Leave a comment