Tofu is an odorless tasteless derivative of beans that is quite often used in recipes to give a meal substance. You may know it as bean curd. I bet you’re hoping it was not an additive to something you ate as of late, but it probably was! Yet without this seemingly insignificant ingredient your food would be quite flat.
Time is to our lives as tofu is to a good meal; it doesn’t have substance either. One second this time is pretty much like one second next time. It is that bland framework without color, emotion or presence we humans categorize, lasso into bits and pieces, minutes, seconds, years and eons and so forth solely to keep track orderly track of what we have seen and done in our lives. We can remember it anyway we want to. We can experience it as good, bad, misused, enjoyed or just too long. Our choices are as endless as it is.
And like what tofu does to enhance the meal, events like those of last week which were carried out by a tortured mind on innocent people have the power to shape our lives for a lifetime. Tragic occurrences like these take place everyday and regardless of their frequency they never get any easier to comprehend. For a while we are a bit more cautions, a bit more afraid and a bit more confused than before they happen. Yet our minds have a way of categorizing and placing things in the past and before long we breathe easier, regain our optimism and look again at the bright side of things. No it doesn’t happen over night. And no it shouldn’t, although at times I know we all wish it would. For we have this desire to put one foot ahead and to keep stepping even when taking that step is the last thing we want to be doing.
I heard one commentator say that we will always remember where we were when we heard about the events in Virginia, much like it does when we think of 911, and the Kennedy assassination. Maybe, but only time will tell how we rank this tragedy with the others. On that same day 139 people were killed in a senseless car bomb in Iraq. How will we remember that or the dozens of other senseless deaths from that war, which seems to only come home to us, when a local services mans name finds its way to our local front page.
To dismiss the tragedies of the day as that, tragedies; is the flavor of our lives and often a bitter pill to swallow. It is after all what happened while we were here. It is after all that which we will remember as being yesterday. And while we know there will be tomorrows that will have this same flavor, we can only hope that they are fewer and far between. Either way, here we come, one step, one at a time.