Morning Killers of Off-Spring,
It’s probably safe to assume that outside of Tammy, most of us have heard of or even participated in the destruction of one’s own children. I don’t think Tammy is able to procreate so it was logical to eliminate (pardon the pun) her from the list. These kinds of killings happen in nature all the time! Male bears will kill cubs simply to get mama back in the sack! Does that sound familiar Dee Dee? Male crocodiles sit and wait for the eggs to hatch; picking off the babies one by one as they enter the water. When it comes to we humans, the most intelligent life forms occupying space today, will for the coldest of reasons garrote their own offspring.
It seems every couple of years we’re treated to stories of one or both parents initiating the murder of their children. This to me is so far beyond the pale; it warrants the slowest and most painful death we can conjure. I read an account of such savagery Link where mom wasted her son while dropping him off for soccer practice then returned home to finish off his sister while doing her homework. Her justification? “They were too mouthy!” Anyone who is currently or has raised teenagers fully understands the idea of killing them, but in most cases are able to restrain themselves. Without invoking the bombast of Dv’ant, these deranged acts of barbarism should NOT be allowed to escape our harshest punishment with an ‘insanity’ plea! Spare me the post partum argument, or how the murderer was a victim of parental abuse. Or my personal favorite; their ongoing struggle with depression and thoughts of suicide. This bullshit is a direct result of ‘political correctness’ run amuck.
Not all abuse results in physical death. There’s cruelty leveled at our small ones that sentences the child to a lifetime of self-doubt and misery. Unfortunately this tends to be passed on from generation to generation. Don’t kid yourself; this is death just as sure as a bullet through the head.
Yesterday I had the pleasure of welcoming one of the original members of the ‘rules committee’ back from his wanderings on the east coast. Many of his fellow curmudgeons came out to welcome him home and the shivaree was enjoyed by all. Gigem is a very slight man. Soaking wet he might weigh all of 140 lbs and is diabetic. How he manages his alcohol consumption is a mystery, but has been doing so as long as I’ve known him. His pronounced Texas drawl is legendary and I think I speak for most when I say it’s good to have him back amongst us.
I’ve never mixed insulin with alcohol so I can’t speak to what happened personally, but well into our little party the guest of honor broke down and began to sob openly. There was no consoling our wayward associate and knocked the wind from our party sails dampening our little soiree to the point we circled around our distressed comrade.
Slowly, Gigem gathered himself and began to speak. In a halting voice choking back tears, he told us about how he began his trip to Colorado with his son and the awful circumstances that perhaps took his boy’s life. This road trip was to be the penultimate bonding experience for father and son. But on westbound highway 70 between Hays and Ogallah Kansas the ‘family truckster’ experienced a blowout forcing them to the shoulder. In Gigem’s haste to leave he didn’t check his equipment and assumed it was all there. It wasn’t. The jack was for a different vehicle and didn’t raise the ‘truckster’ high enough to pull the flat off. Just a few inches shy of clearing, Gigem asked his son to get ready to pull and replace the flat tire while he pried the wounded vehicle up with an old 4 X 4 he’d found in the adjacent ditch. With a mighty grunt lifting with his legs he cleared the ground. But before his son could put the spare on the bolts the 4 X 4 snapped dropping the rim on his son’s right leg pinning him.
I can’t imagine the shock and pain of such a thing. Gigem tried in vain to lift the car enough for the boy to pull himself out from under but was incapable of budging it. The broken jack acted as a buffer between the rim and his son’s leg but the pain was unbearable. With no cell service at that spot Gig remembered he’d just passed the Riga exit just a couple miles back and set out on foot for help. Only an hour had elapsed since the tragedy and Gigem arrived with a tow truck driver; ambulance en route.
He jumped out of the truck and ran over to where he’d last seen his son and was stunned to find he wasn’t there! Calling out to him yielded nothing. So he began to look around and discovered blood on what appeared to be marks in the gravelly dust. It was odd, as if a body was dragged into the nearby wheat field but instead ended abruptly at the fields’ edge. There were no other signs of him.
The investigation is ongoing, but of little comfort to Gigem feeling responsible for his missing son’s pain and suffering. These of course is nowhere near the cold blooded execution of siblings noted above, but try and explain that to our good friend Gigem.