Some years ago my favorite writer, Thornton Wilder, penned the prize-winning novel "The Bridge of St Luis Rey." Robert DeNiro later made a movie of it, The theme is classic -- why have i survived in this scary old world when others just like me haven't?
The story has been told a thousand thousand times. Travelers -- in this case crossing a weathered rope bridge in old Peru -- are suddenly caught in an unexpected tragedy. Crack, crunch and the bridge collapses under their trembling feet into the abyss below. On this bridge on this day, some lives are lost; those who did not take the trip, survived. Why some and not others? Why them and not me? Why? Why? Why?
My grand-daughter recently experienced the question when a school bus she was on hit a power line, and broke into flames. Forty years earlier, her own father experienced the same question when a tornada out of nowhere smashed into his car. In both cases, they walked away to tell the tale; others did not.
Does God or Fate or Evolution have a reason? Is there even such a thing as a reason for the random? The answer always lives somewhere in the future. What will the survivors do with their survival? How will they choose to live their extra days? Where will their existence make a difference in the lives and events to come?
Almost makes their lives a unique kind of opportunity, maybe even obligation, doesn't it...?
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