perspective

Ever since the news early this week about Dan Wheldon's death at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway I've had the urge to express something.  Let me explain something before you wonder why I felt I had to express myself.  I've worked two years in a row at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway as a Safety person a/k/a yellow shirt in the outside Paddock at the start/finish line.  I worked those two years watching out for the safety of race fans and watched as a fan, the action on the track.  I'm also an 18-year veteran of the Brickyard 400 and I attend Nascar races at Phoenix International Raceway.

Those of us in Indiana who didn't get a basketball in the crib, grew up to the sounds of cars going around a two and a half mile oval at incredible speeds.  Racing is a part of my life.  Dan Wheldon wasn't my favorite driver by any means and yet the violence of the crash got to me.  The horrific footage that was played over and over again on the internet and television is something I won't forget any time soon.  One of the worst accidents I've seen in any motorsport. 

The thrill of these races comes in the dance with danger.  The action on the track of passing, going faster and faster, waiting to see if fate deals a bad hand with mechanical issues, it's all part of the excitement.  Wrecks are spectacular in these events!  When you see and hear these incredible machines colliding with each other or a wall in a fraction of a second makes the adrenaline rise.  While we never want anyone to be hurt, or worse killed, we love the accidents. 

It is true that both Indy Car and Nascar make tremendous efforts to ensure the safety of the driver, they can't make guarantees.  That risk is always there and it draws the drivers in as much as the fans.  Is the fame, noteriety, and money worth the life that, in this case, is lost?  No.  Not at all.  We, as humans, sometimes can't resist dancing on that edge, living life a little dangerously to feel truly alive.  It's why some of us ride roller coasters, jump out of planes, bungee jump, and take chances of all sorts.

While moved by the death of Dan Wheldon, I have to keep perspective and focus a little closer to home.  A friend, long time co-worker, is dealing with the illness of her baby brother (who is 39) who is in the hospital.  His condition is quite serious, cancer always is.  He is also the youngest member of this large family.  It's a very difficult time for the family.  I've never met the man.  His sister and I have a good friendship and it is for her that I am concerned.  I relate because I also have a younger brother and I know if the tables were turned how I would feel. 

No press conferences, no benefits, no projects will be named for my friend's brother.  He's another number on a page compared to the high profile life of Dan Wheldon.  Both deserve respect and the families deserve support.  One family grieves in the public eye and one family sits out of the spotlight, worrying, praying, and hoping for one more day.


"And so, it's been one of those days
When I let things get to me
I've got no right to complain
'Cause when I look around I see
Folks out there fighting for every breath
And it makes me realize
It's just been one of those days for me
But for them it's been one of those lives"

One of Those Lives, Brad Paisley