Recently I was an unfortunate bystander to a group of all-together great people standing around while just a simple few drug someone's name through the mud. Publicly.
Some listened.
Some laughed.
Some even participated as the raucous got tin pan louder.
I had to walk away.
I know that person. Well sort of. I know a version of that person. I know versions of the people who were there. I know versions of a lot of people. Glimpses. Snap shots or clips in a grand documentary. Tough to judge a film by the trailer, or the poster. Even the critics get it wrong.
Simply put I walked away because it could have been me they were egg-tossing. Fact. It has been me.
"Well...that person deserved it. They're all that and more than what was said. That's exactly the person I knew." Sure. Maybe. I guess. I don't really know. At all.
I guess people have a right to say whatever they want about whomever they want, but should they? Should we?
It wasn't funny. It was tympanic-tragic. It could've been any one of us.
It could have been, and often has been me. My promise to you is that if I'm in the room, it won't be you.
1 comment:
This is why I admire you so much, Jarret.
Brittney
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