As I stepped back into the house, it just seemed weird, the other ice that had fallen off of the car was white, despite all the grime and salt on the roads, but this ice was brown, with a red tint. It was then that I saw it; the can that had exploded out of its case, like a fetus pulled too soon from its womb.

The only way to describe the horror was; the complete absence of God.

In today’s world one cannot help but wonder how one would respond to an emergency. Real world headlines of heroes who jumped in front of subways to protect a stranger, or who caught a baby thrown from the widow of a burning building, so that it might live, while the mother did not, sparked the imagination.

TV shows, of course, add fodder to such images. Would we be the reluctant hero, like Jim Rockford, or would we be gung-ho like Sony and Crockett? We fantasize that pure cold logic combined with quick, appropriate actions would emanate from within. We would lift the car off of the child and then apply the necessary first aid to ensure she did not bleed out or that the spine was appropriately supported before moving the child. Maybe CPR, maybe a tourniquet, maybe even an emergency tracheotomy using a box cutter and a Bic pen. Who can say until that one moment occurs? A moment that every man waits for, expects. Maybe it will come, maybe it won’t but if it does, it can make a man whole or break him into a thousand tiny pieces.