Tuesday, October 03, 2006


I somehow managed to escape alive from my teenage years despite a somewhat typical arrogance in my assumption that I could survive anything. Without the maturity to cope with the loss of my father when I was 12, I careened into my early 20's without awareness of the lessons that can be learned from losing someone close to you. Over time, I have been able to gain some perspective and not take things as much for granted to the point where most days I am able to remind myself of my fraility and insignificance. We are reminded of this message frequently, from our own personal interactions to the public declarations of survivors and familes of victims of 9/11. Sometimes, though, the facade of an awareness of perspective does not help to remove the bitter taste that is left in one's mouth in the face of the randomness of an accident like the one that took the lives of two players from the Gendors this past Sunday. Hh wrote much more eloquently about this than I ever could, but I was struck by the link he provided to Will Wiersma's MySpace page in which Will, one of the deceased, mentions "life is simple" and "living as if you are dying tomorrow". A few weeks ago, I got on a plane for Chicago so I could work at CHC. As I got on, it crossed my mind, as it does frequently these days, that this could be the last thing I do. I did not presume to take any comfort in the idea that I was "doing something I loved", and I was quite certain that my wife and daughter would not take comfort in such sentiment. So, the questions and struggles remain, regardless of how much we remind ourselves of the gift that is our time here: Do I get on the plane? Do I drive to the tournament? Do I leave the house today? On days like yesterday, I have no answers.


llimllib said...

Who is Hh and where did he write more eloquently? link please.

gcooke said...


beatty said...

yes, you do.

ramsay said...

I'm still in shock about this. I played disc with Will in Oxford last fall and at Paganello this spring. Not only was he a great player, but he was a solid all-around good guy.

Will was one of those guys you always wanted to line up against on D because he was played smart, ran hard, and was fiercely competitive. Any time I'd manage to get a block or throw/catch a score on him (not so often, really)he would always take his game up a notch and play harder, get down on the pull faster, be more aggressive on the mark, bid underneath, etc. You could count on him to push himself physically and mentally -- and push you to do the same. Just what I was looking for in the waning hours of misty Oxford daylight after a long day at work.

I still have difficulty accepting that he's beneath the ground somewhere and that that essence that made Will Will is gone -- or at least it's moved on to wherever you believe the spirit goes when after this life.

To George's comment about not having the answers, I would respond that sometimes all we can do is just be human enough to ask the questions and be mindful as we carry on with life.

gcooke said...


Nice comments. Thanks for your perspective.