Well, you can't say you didn't figure he wasn't going to go out the way he did, with his boots on, so to speak. I'm talking, of course, about the death of conservationist Steve Irwin, the famous, and perhaps more than a little insane "Crocodile Hunter." The 44-year-old Australian was filming a special about "The Ocean's Deadliest," when he apparently got too close to a Stingray that just wasn't in the mood to be messed with. The Stingray's tail barb went up, and, according to reports, straight through Irwin's heart. Crikey. And forgive me if a man like that having a family didn't seem like perhaps the most insane act of all. One can only presume that he knew all the risks he took, the man was, after all, no amateur. But in your heart, how do you even ponder something like that? Having the life he lived with him as a bachelor, we would have all just painted him as crazy, but in a life-loving, life-giving kind of way through his work. On the one hand, as it was, having a life like that, dying and taking a family down with you is positively unconscionable. On the other hand, if he was indeed that life-loving, and life-giving, then perhaps living the way he did is the only thing that made sense; the logical extension of the man he already was. Suffice to say, I still deem that an awful lot of risk to be taking. And I know some will think that sounds a bit odd, coming from me, 6000 miles away from everything I know, but I'm not in the ocean with wild Stingrays, either. And the idea of being this close to North Korea doesn't count. While Korea regards America with suspicion, the real enemy to their minds is, and pretty much always has been, Japan. So, hats off to a man who taught us all a little bit, including getting as close to death on a regular basis as anyone should ever dare to.
And then, just as I was writing this, the phone call came that my Aunt Rose, confined to a nursing home after being hobbled by strokes, large and small for years, had passed away. Life mattered no less to her, although I sincerely doubt she ever would have gotten in the water with a live Crocodile; the Crocodile wouldn't have stood a chance. But for as cantankerous as she could be, and as plain-spoken as she was, the woman had a heart of gold. My first car was originally hers; LP23C5B352835. A '75 Dodge Dart Special Edition, Sherwood Green with green velour interior and a "bone" vinyl top, although it was really white, at least to my eye. A car I never legally drove because a drunk driver in a '66 GTO hit it as it sat curbside at 1:30 in the morning. Life goes on. And the only thought I can have is that she is, as they always say, in a better place now, having thrown off this mortal coil once and for all. And as for me, I can only pray that after having lived my life well, and seen my daughters grow up happy, and held my grandchildren, my God chooses to come to me, perhaps in the guise of some Tommy-Lee-Jones-esque salt, and says "Good job, Pete, but you're comin' with me now. And don't worry, there's nothing to be afraid of." And I will wonder no more what Christmas Eve could be like in the presence of Christ Himself. Till then, I'll wait. And live all I can. Kinda like Steve Irwin--and Aunt Rose.