This Week's Berkshire Eagle Column
Berkshire Eagle
I, Publius

When tragedy strikes
By Alan Chartock
Special to the Eagle


Saturday, January 31, 2004 - Most of us experience day-to-day challenges in our lives, and some of us tend to magnify our problems. But there are events that are so truly awful that the little things we go through in our lives are trifling by comparison.

Last Sunday night, I flew to Washington to have what the diplomats call "a free and frank discussion" with the muckety-mucks at National Public Radio. I was filled with trepidation as I thought through what needed to be said to the NPR honchos, who remind me a lot of Mel Brooks' 2000-Year-Old Man's remembrance of Robin Hood. When asked by Carl Reiner whether he knew Robin Hood, he said yes. And when asked whether Robin Hood really robbed from the rich and gave to the poor, the 2000-Year-Old Man responded, "No, he robbed from the rich, he robbed from the poor, and he kept everything."

Stewing over this substantial problem, I arrived at my hotel. I was starving, but the kitchen at the hotel had closed early in anticipation of what Washington calls a snowstorm. So I reached into my pocket and found two small packets of honey-coated peanuts thrown at me by the generous souls of Continental Airlines and feasted on them before retiring.

I fell into a deep sleep, keeping my cell phone on for emergencies. I don't always do that, but for some reason, maybe a premonition, I did last Sunday. At about 1 in the morning, the phone rang. It was David Galletly telling me that the Germantown home of our wonderful chief engineer, James Scholefield, had burned down and that three people in his family were missing. They included his beautiful daughter, his mother-in-law and her daughter. Jimmy, his wife and son had survived.

Jimmy had heroically tried to get the rest of his family out, but it was too late. They had apparently died of carbon monoxide poisoning before the flames ever reached them. Jimmy climbed a ladder to the second floor, but a giant explosion wracked the house, and Jimmy and the ladder were blown away. Jimmy's hands were seriously burned. There is nothing left of the house, and three living, breathing human beings are no more.

A dark cloud descended over the employees of Northeast Public Radio. Jimmy Scholefield is one of the most beloved members of our WAMC group. We've kidded him for years during fund drives. The man has incredible intuitive talent and the kind of motivation that allows him to climb Mount Greylock and all of our other transmitter sites in the darkest, coldest days of winter, once with a 103-degree temperature, to make sure the radio station stays on the air. He makes miracles happen. He's one of those people who can instantly diagnose a problem. He can make repairs with spit and Scotch tape. He is, in short, what being an engineer is all about.

This is a guy who learned from others and did it the old-fashioned way -- as an apprentice. Half the people at WAMC can imitate Jimmy's voice and very mannerisms. Sometimes, he even parodies himself.

And now this. I don't have to tell any of you what the loss of a beautiful, talented, precocious child means. Any of us can put ourselves in Jimmy's place, and all of us have. The tears are flowing freely at WAMC. The word is out all over the United States. I don't know how these things work, but we've had calls from radio engineers and professionals from all over the country. "What can we do to help?" has been a constant refrain as the telephone continues to ring.

No one wants to, but it is so incredibly easy for each of us to test ourselves -- to ask what we would do if something this tragic happened to us. My wife, the lovely Roselle, says that she couldn't continue to live if she lost one of our children. It is tragic when a loved one dies, but there is a natural order to things. My wonderful neighbor from Alford, Marion Germain, once put it all into perspective for me. She quoted a maxim that she had learned as a child: "The young will die, and the old must die." I never forgot that, and as I grow older, I marvel at the simplicity of those few words. But when the reverse happens, when children die before their parents, it takes the emotional wind right out of you. When it happens to you, it defines the word "pain."

In the face of something this tragic, each of us must try to find some way to provide solace, to give meaning to members of our extended community. As we face the relatively small problems of everyday life, let us remember what true tragedy really is.

I think about our Jimmy and his family all day long, and I find myself with tears in my eyes more often than I'd like.




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Alan Chartock, a Great Barrington resident, is chairman and executive director of WAMC Northeast Public Radio and a professor of communications at SUNY-Albany.

- posted by Alan @ 2/01/2004 02:17:00 PM