Of Fires and Worse…
There’s always been something difficult about this time of year. It’s inherent in our major Spring holidays Easter and Passover, each dealing with issues of death and rebirth, captivity and escape. It’s part and parcel with the hope that comes with the first warm days, as well as the accompanying sense of depression many of us feel when it turns cold again.
There’s a history of difficult events that accompany this time of year, from Waco and Oklahoma City to Kent State and Columbine. And there’s the recurrence of flooding, and all the tragedy entailed, which seems to reoccur every nine years or so in these parts.
It’s all one can do, under such circumstances, to maintain the levels of shared optimism and stick-to-it-ness which are the lifeblood of our communities, and our ability to be community-minded. And yet most of us do maintain these things, or try to. And somehow, the challenges keep drawing us all up to meet them, no longer the sad distances.
We’re thinking here of two events which have effected our stretch of the Route 28 corridor in recent weeks, and touched all aspects of our sprawling community, no matter how individual its parts may sometimes seem.
Along with the April 2 “Cutoff Storm” floods and the death of Pope John Paul II came news of the tragic death of a recent Onteora graduate. A gun was involved. There was a horrible accident of the sort that echoes through misunderstanding and rumor. The local school district readied itself to care for those who might need help dealing with the way fate had moved.
And then this past week, the area’s top restaurant and inn, The Emerson, burned in a morning fire that took over 100 firefighters to stop, albeit too late to save. No one was hurt but an area landmark was lost, and lives disrupted. Route 28 was closed for eight hours and again, misinformation and rumor reverberated up and down the Esopus Valley.
After the first tragedy, we tried setting up a forum to talk with students about how they were coping with the loss in their community. But things went poorly… participants hadn’t been prepared to speak about such deep emotions. The wounds were still fresh.
After the Emerson fire, we found that most people spoke quietly about what had happened, among those who they felt would share their feelings. There was a litany of condolences, some theorizing, but no one was, again, ready yet to deal with the blow that had landed.
During our conversation at the school, however, we found ourselves faced with some disturbing truths. That a lot of our kids feel the presence of guns, and the tragedies that occur because of them, are an inevitable part of our modern American culture. That they feel powerless against fate. And that for the most part, we all shy away from talking about death and tragedy publicly. That anyone asking about such things is suspect, prying into matters which are private because they are so deeply emotional.
And during our gathering of news about the Emerson fire, we realized how hard it is to capture the suddenness of tragedy, reaching as we do for the fastest assurance of understanding we can grasp. Many spoke in terms of other fires in our region, from the great old hotels of the classic Catskills to the more recent loss of large structures in neighboring Hunter and Tannersville. And they struggled not to jump to conclusions.
All we can do here at the nerve center we feel this newspaper is, at least at times, is to field what information we can gather on events, and promise to report all we will struggle to learn about these and any other incidents that effect our community. But more importantly, we will continue to work to provide this community with a sounding board and a forum within which it can voice its concerns and continue learning, as all good communities do, to struggle through its tragedies and face its worst emotional truths.
Few people if anyone in the area processed the news of either the recent death in Olive or the loss of The Emerson Inn without a profound sense of sadness. We have lost things of extraordinary beauty and elegance. Our hearts go out to those closest to what has occurred.
What The Emerson was, what we pray it will be again and soon, is part of a vision of the Catskills’ future that sought to embody some of the magic of the past, and serve as a gateway to our part of the world for some who wouldn’t have otherwise found their way here.
What the young man’s life who departed us so tragically was, as the great English poet John Milton once wrote about his lost friend, Lycidas, can only be seen in terms of a “great recompense” involving continuous memory and inner changes.
In a perfect world, we would all be able to sit together and talk honestly with each other whenever events like these occur, to air it all with the knowledge that such expiation is one of the greatest beauties, and services, of community… and something to be strived for. And through such cathartic means, we would all heal each other so we can face new challenges ever more clearly. And love each other, as a real community, more deeply.
In the real world, we can continue trying to make this newspaper simulate such a forum, and at least acknowledge and laud those times when we do come together in compassion and new understanding. And actually grow, all for one.
As we have done through the recent floods, when we all helped each other as best we could. And as we still did this past week, through fires and worse.