For only the second time since I became the Tribune's crime reporter over four months ago, I recently got a little depressed because of my job.
It happened all of a sudden last Thursday. I was in the office working on the Police Blotter, specifically an item about a man who allegedly puts on cowboy boots for the sole purpose of kicking his wife in the head. This, in itself, did not get me down; while it was certainly disturbing, I work on true stories nearly every day that classify as such.
But as I was working on the blotter, someone mentioned that actor/comedian Phil Hartman had been shot. I put the blotter aside to check out the latest on the Associated Press wire. There I read that apparently his wife had killed him, and then herself -- while their children were in the very same house.
It's moments like this that make me wonder what in the hell this world is coming to. I thought of how that wife must feel when she sees those boots -- and what motivates her to stay with such a man. I thought of what the Hartman children will have to live with for the rest of their lives.
I thought: How in the world can God allow things like this to happen?
The first time this job really got to me was when I was sitting in court for the preliminary trial of the three boys -- the oldest is 19, the youngest barely old enough to drive at 16 -- accused of torturing and killing Kimberly Fondy, a 33-year-old paraplegic, mother and admitted methamphetamine user. I choked back emotion as pictures of Fondy's body, including her injuries, were shown in court. It hurt to see the pain in Fondy's parents' eyes as they testified. And it really shook me when the pregnant girlfriend of Robert Paul Servin, the 16-year-old, walked up to the stand to testify.
I did not sleep as well as normal that night. In what kind of world do teen-agers -- or anybody -- torture and kill people? In what kind of world do mothers do deadly drugs? In what kind of world does an alleged murder, who should be a sophomore in high school, become a father himself?
The alleged robbing of a Reno middle schooler of his lunch at gunpoint; the death of four, allegedly at the hands of a 15-year-old in Oregon; the death of three, allegedly at the hands of two 15-year-olds in little Battle Mountain, Nevada. The examples are endless. There is so much sickness, so much evil, in the United States of 1998.
But at times like this, it is important to remember: There is so much good still around, too. Like there has been on this planet since Eve munched down on the apple (if you believe in such things), there is good and evil everywhere.
You need examples? Look no farther than Sparks, and look no farther than crime.
Of the three big crimes in Sparks -- methamphetamine abuse, DUI and domestic violence -- two of the three weren't even serious crimes 30 years ago. In the 1960's, it was no big deal to beat the tar out of your wife. Drunken driving? Punishment was a mere slap on the wrist. But today, you can get in serious trouble for doing either.
And far more lives have been saved because of these stronger laws than have been lost because of teen-agers carrying guns.
Violent crime is reportedly down all across the country, too. Yeah, there are still the Fondy, Kinkel and Hartman incidents which get lots of attention, but it is just a tad bit safer to walk down the average street in this country than it was a year ago.
There is more violence than ever on television and in the movies -- and this may indeed help explain why so many teen-agers are armed these days. But there is also more educational television today than ever as well. More people are attending and graduating from college today than ever before.
In other worlds, do not give up on this world yet. When you have those moments in which reality knocks you down, like it got me last Thursday, don't stay down. Get up, pop in a record, tape or CD of an up-tempo song, dance a little, and smile. Do not forget the bad, but remember the good.
Then, go out and do something to add to the good on this planet. Start by paying more loving attention to your family or your friends. Volunteer in a program that needs you, if that type of thing floats your boat. Smile when you walk down the street instead of looking at the ground.
And whatever you do: Remember, this is the only world we've got.
Jimmy Boegle, a fifth-generation Nevadan, apologizes for being so serious this week. He can be reached by e-mail at jiboegle@alumni.stanford.org. His column appears here Tuesdays; next week, he promises to be back to being his smart-assed self.