And how about the consecration of Yale? “The added shock of it happening at Yale was not because I feared more bad things would happen there, but because so many good things happen there. It truly is a place of learning and truth. A killing there is as upsetting as a killing in a church.”
P.S. For your amusement, here’s my satiric revision:
Murder of Yale student Annie Le hits close to home and I’m not worried about my Yalie daughter
By Michael Daly (Yale, ‘68)
The question my daughter asked when she called from Yale Sunday night was not one you expect ever to hear when your kid is at Yale.
“Can you check if they found the body?”
I knew she meant the body of Annie Le, the Yale graduate student who had gone missing at Yale five days before she was to be married. I figured rumors must be flying around Yale’s campus.
I made a quick call and then dialed my daughter’s cell phone. Of course she has no land line; she’s away at Yale! I said something you do not expect ever to say when your kid is at Yale.
“They did find the body.”
Right about then was when I would have been expected to be afraid for her safety. I was not. You see, I have already accepted and internalized the idea that people, especially minorities and women, randomly become victims, just as if a meteorite landed on their heads.
My daughter, now at Yale, was around two shootings here in the mean streets of New York City, when she was a youngster. Totally random stuff. Could have happened anywhere; just happened to have happened where I chose to live.
She once scampered up to see if her favorite tree was in bud and instead saw a pool of blood at the base where a man’s head had been bashed with a branch. It is a tragic thing to have one’s childhood innocence interrupted by a brutal murder!
A nice young cop was killed up by the park and she took flowers up and set them on the spot where he died.
Of course, that was before our cops made New York the safest big city in America, if not quite as safe as Yale.
But terrible things can still happen even in the best parts of New York. Even among white people! Nobody wants it or causes it, but it happens nonetheless.
I was down at Rector St. a few weeks ago and watched dozens of uniformed cops file into an office building to search for a custodian who had gone missing. They found her murdered and stuffed above a suspended ceiling. Shazam! Just like lightning.
That did not make me suddenly more worried for my daughter in New York. Who can affect the weather?
And the discovery of Le’s body did not make me worry for my daughter at Yale.
The added shock of it happening at Yale was not because I feared more bad things would happen there, but because so many good things happen there. Great things. Wonderful things. It truly is a place of learning and truth. And diversity! A wonderful place. A sacred place. A killing there is as upsetting as a killing in a church. More really. Who goes to church except maybe on Easter and Christmas? Whereas, truly important people attend Yale—my daughter among them.
More than anything, I felt exactly what my daughter was feeling when she later called back. You see, she is very empathic. She feels the suffering of others very strongly, as I do.
“It’s so sad,” my daughter told me from Yale. “They found her on her wedding day.”
I asked her if she was all right.
“I’m just crying,” she said. She is a very good person. (I was crying too.)
I would’ve hugged her if she were still at home. But she’s not, you know. She’s at Yale, where she will augment her natural empathy with the progressive learning necessary to make a difference in the world.
I said what I would have said if tragedy had randomly struck down the block, for example, if a random burglary had “gone wrong” at the old bodega and nice old Mr. DelVecchio had been killed by a handgun.
“I love you, my Monkey,” I told her. Love is the solution!
“I love you,” my Brooklyn Yalie replied. Teach your children well! And they may even get into Yale!