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Through My Eyes... |
The Death of Barbaro
Jan 30, 2007
By Cornelia Spelman
Why I Cry for a Horse
The death of Barbaro occurred on a day ( like any) when the news of the world was full of horrible stories of human deaths. Some people have said that those of us who cry for Barbaro ought to be crying for our fellow man (and woman and child) but--can't we cry for all of them?
Isn't the admonition to only honor and mourn the death of someone of a certain religion, or political view, or ethnicity, or country, or gender, or age--or species-- simply a way to dishonor anyone who isn't "like me"?
Surely there is room in our hearts for love, for tears, or, at the very least, for compassion--for the death of any living being. This room underlies our opposition to capital punishment, or our repugnance when there is delight in the misery and suffering of anyone, even one's enemies. It is what makes one turn one's face away from the spectacle of hangings. Of course those who injure or kill others must accept responsibility, must lose their freedom--but many of us believe it is wrong to murder them.
Barbaro's life, and his death, undoubtedly have unique meanings to each of the thousands of us who saw his triumph in the Kentucky Derby; watched his horrifying injury in the Preakness, and have subsequently followed his progress. For me, it was thrilling to see such a beautiful, healthy, magnificent, gifted creature, and sickening to realize how all of those qualities could be altered, in an instant. This is what can happen in life. We all know it, but we manage not to think about it all the time. Barbaro's accident provided us with an unavoidable and painful reminder.
For me, the accident happened at the same time that a close family member was dangerously ill (luckily, my loved one recovered ). My own personal emotional reaction, therefore, to Barbaro's injury was immediate and intense: NO! Not another reminder (as if we all didn't have plenty, every day) of life's fragility, of the passage--sometimes gradual, sometimes immediate--into disability and decline.
Also, watching Barbaro run was just plain fun. Sunshine; fancy hats; the excited faces of so many spectators. (Yes, I know there is another side, too--why run these beautiful creatures so fast, risking such terrible injuries, for money?) But wasn't there something, out of these days of grief for our dead and maimed soldiers and their families, for the Iraquis who have been killed and injured, for all the terrible havoc and damage brought about by our reckless administration and the dangerous spirits they've sent into the world--couldn't one forget all that, for a few moments, and just be happy to watch that beautiful horse run?
I'm not ashamed to cry for Barbaro, as well as for people I don't even know. It's all just a sickening waste of beauty, health, and talent. Sometimes, it can't be helped--and sometimes, it could have been.