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No Act Goes Unnoticed

Posted by Dr. D , 29 November 2010 · 174 views

Tomas Marquez Saenz was seven months old.  He slept in his motherís arms in a city bus that rattled through the pot holes and speed bumps.  He was the first born of his mother Emily and she looked at him with the endearment known only to a motherís face.

Carlos Sifuentes was 14 and had begun to feel the pangs of a strange interest each time that he looked at the young girl named Susan in the classroom.  She had a cascade of ebony hair that cradled an angelic face and he could no longer resist it.  He had pumped his bicycle through more than 20 blocks to stand before her house and search for the courage to push the doorbell.

When his eyesight began to fail, Benito Delgado constructed a wooden box with a strap to go over his shoulders.  He filled the box with candy and cigarettes and for the past 31 years he had sat on the same corner waiting for the sound of a dropping coin for now his vision had faded completely into a deep, dull grey.

Benito could hear the bus coming and thought perhaps someone would step from it and see his wares.  Perhaps there would be the sound of the coin and he could feel content.

Emily knew that this was her stop and she stood, adjusted the sleeping Tomas in her arms and moved to the front of the bus where the doors had yawned open with a hollow thud.

Carlos saw the thin woman with the baby and glanced toward Benito.  He viewed his bicycle leaning against the fence and wondered if it would not be best to retreat to his home because it would be better than rejection.

It was in that micro-second of time that the rattle of the AK47 was heard and cars screamed through the barrio.  A hissing sound filled the air as a bullet pierced a radiator.  Curses came upon the wind and in a moment it was over.  The hatred and anger had passed as it sped toward other victims and the pavement was crimson.

In the tenements of a New York night a young man straps his arm.  The syringe is poised and his brow bears beads of sweat.  He injects the liquid he heated in the spoon and sighs with a jolt of euphoria.

He believes that his fix cost $40.00 but he is wrong.  It had immeasurable cost.  The infant Tomas died in his motherís arms.  Carlosí twisted body was found at the door of a classmate and she would always wonder why.  Benito was found leaning against the brick wall of a building, his cranium having exploded into a mass of blood.

They all had a message to bring.  Tomas, Carlos and Benito taught us that we share this world and all the consequences of a collective conduct.  The young New Yorker used his body to tell his society that something was wrong.  We are all part of each other and no act goes unnoticed.

If there is a greater sadness than the deaths of these innocents, it is found in the fact that what I have told her was a true event happening in a city only 90 minutes from my home.




Very nice, Dr. D, and so true. Well done.
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