chrishansenhome

Among others, those were the words that John Wilkes Booth shouted as he leapt from the Presidential Box at Ford's Theatre after mortally wounding President Abraham Lincoln.

Over the more than a century and a half since that day in 1865, political figures from Presidents of the United States, Kings, Archdukes, dictators of all sorts, and leaders such as Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. have been assassinated.

Today we have learned about the capture of Colonel Moammar Gaddafi, the deposed leader of Libya, and his subsequent death, either as a result of wounds suffered during his capture or from a subsequent gunshot. This has been the inevitable conclusion of the events begun by the uprising in Misrata in February.

The scenes shown on CNN and the BBC News Channel are of Gaddafi, alive, being taken away in a truck, and of Gaddafi, dear, sometime later. We see jubilant Libyan fighters waving their guns in the air and shooting off celebratory rounds. Other fighters are flashing the "V for Victory" sign, or boasting that they were the one who found Gaddafi in his drainage pipe hideout and dragged him out to be shot. Women and children are waving signs and ululating in victory.

Why then do I feel uneasy?

I suppose that not having lived under a tyrant I have a jaded view of deaths of tyrants. The video of Saddam Hussain falling through the scaffold's trap door to his death was pretty awful. The death of Osama bin Laden, while not accompanied by pictures or videos, was fairly squalid as it was described. The scenes of Egypt's Mubarak, being brought into court on a stretcher, obviously ill, aren't very pleasant either. Going back in time a bit, the suicide of Adolf Hitler brought the Second World War in Europe to a swift end in 1945. Stalin's apparent death was celebrated by his closest aides, until he was found to be still breathing; his end had to be hastened by a pillow (reportedly).

Death has a way of being both an ending, and a beginning. The death of Gaddafi has brought his rule in Libya to a pretty bloody closure. But is it the beginning of a new, democratic state of Libya where democratic rule of law will reign over its people? We do not know. We can only hope.

But I must confess that I do not feel easy today. I am not sad at the end of a brutal dictatorship. I am, however, sad that the Libyans arrived at this end through yet another killing. Death, whether of a child in Ethiopia or Somalia from famine, or of a dictator in Libya, or of a close friend, does not bring me any joy.

I do not mourn his passing; however, I do not take joy at the manner in which it happened.

And, lest we forget, death will visit us all, without exception. No one will live forever (nor would anyone want to, I believe). Death has taken the Colonel. However, death will take us too.

It is said that the Rt. Rev'd Mervyn Stockwood, once Bishop of Southwark, remarked on the longevity in office of various elderly priests with, "Where there's death, there's hope." I think that in the Colonel's case we can only trust that this saying was right. May all the victims of tyranny worldwide rest in peace and rise in glory.

James and Lolie Brackin were married for 59 years and were devoted to one another. They died together in a nursing home just a few minutes apart. The quotation I like best is this:

“They say when you die, you’re immediately in the presence of Jesus,” said their youngest daughter, Dana Troublefield. “I think she got up there and said, ‘Where’s my husband?’ And Jesus said, ‘Just a minute. I’m working on that.’

“She didn’t like to go anywhere alone,” Troublefield added.

Would that all our relationships were carried on and ended so beautifully. May they rest in peace and rise in glory.

...comes, surprisingly, from CNN, where in Korea, people are being "buried alive" in order to live better. For me, it's food for thought.

I refrained from saying much about the late unlamented Rev'd Jerry Falwell's death, as I felt that the blogosphere that I normally read had covered it quite well enough.

However, I came across this little gem this morning, and I think that it expresses my sentiments exactly.

One of Robertson Davies' novels started out with a wedding notice being printed that gave the date of the wedding as November 31st. Thus, the thought that February might have a couple more days in it when spent in Yorkshire seems to have informed this news story.

I especially liked the last line: "He said that despite some research nothing more was known about Mr Tomlinson apart from the tantalising fact that he he lived with his brother on a farm in Gateford, Worksop."

I guess that "tantalising" means something different north of St. Albans.

I've heard some sad stories, but this one is about as sad as it gets. As it's the Daily Mail, it's surprising that all the grisly detail is in it (I believe the Mail is Lady Thatcher's favourite newspaper, but it's possible she can no longer understand what she reads). Safe for work, unless you're having lunch.

"Dancer and choreographer Willi Ninja has died at the age of 45 from suspected AIDS related illnesses. Ninja, a key character on the New York City nightclub scene, choreographed Madonna's Vogue video, sang on Malcolm McLaren's song Deep In Vogue and starred as himself in iconic 1990 film Paris is Burning, a documentary about New York drag nights. The 45-year-old 'Godfather of Vogue' was hospitalised last month (Aug06) and passed away on Saturday (02Sep06). (Contact.Music.com)"

Paris is Burning is a film that affected me deeply. I knew some of the people in it (not Willi, unfortunately) and always feel a pang when I see it (I need to get the DVD and watch it again). Vogue on, Willi.

We all know about the Crocodile Hunter's death (stabbed by a sting ray: he now knows where Death's sting is I suppose). But wait, there's more!!! The King of Infomercials has passed away to that great Salad Spinner in the Sky.

...comes from the BBC, reporting on a curious funeral practice being outlawed in China.

I think I'll ask HWMBO to book one for my funeral.

I was sad to hear of the death of Andrew Martinez, the student at UC Berkeley who fought for the right to attend university in the nude back in the early 1990's. He apparently had had mental health problems and was at the time in jail on assault and battery charges. He committed suicide by putting a bag over his head. The story is here. I kind of secretly admired him for his dogged insistence that public nudity was not only his right, but was non-prurient. There were many demonstrations at Berkeley up until the time he was expelled for refusing to don some clothing.

( After the cut, a NSFW picture of Andrew sunning himself on campus, clad only in Birkenstocks. )