You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
Suicide.
It’s lunch time and I’m outside a local hospital in Nashville.
Fire trucks with swirling red lights fill the driveway. To the side are police cars with flashing blue lights. The strobes intersect like Obi Wan fighting Darth Vadar on the death star.
A crowd of people are on the side of the building looking up. Many are shielding their eyes from the harsh blare of the mid day sun. Some people are smoking, some popping snacks in their mouth like they’re at the movies watching a show.
I grab my camera and head to the 6 story parking garage. The building is formidable, blocking out the sun like a mighty pyramid of linear angles and smooth concrete.
Cars are still entering the facility. People on Blackberry’s are walking to the elevators unaware of what is going on.
PSSSSSTTT.
I turn. A firefighter motions for me to come to him.
“The man is a senior citizen. He’s on the 6th floor, threatening to jump,” the emergency responder says.
I nod silently and move into the breeze way that separates the two sides of the parking garage located by the elevators.
I stand with a number of emergency personnel, all staring up into the glare. Some of the men are anxious. Some are relaxed as if this is just another day in a profession that is full of crazy.
An officer I have known for a decade shakes my hand.
“He’s up there,” he says pointing with his eyes. “Negotiators are on the way.”
“What’s the old guy’s deal?”
“Don’t know,” the cop responds blankly.
I lean against the side of the parking garage and stare into the sky. I see an older man outside the cable railing of the parking structure.
The man, perhaps in his 70’s is wearing blue jeans fastened by suspenders. He has on a white cotton t-shirt. He is wearing one sneaker and oddly he is missing a shoe, standing in a sock.
The fire fighter beside me says the man has been up there about 30 minutes and he appears to be wearing out in the mid day sun.
I watch as the older man leans back, slowly changing his balance, holding on precariously to the cable.
The ledge is about a foot wide and he is swaying all over the place.
Everyone on the ground is anxious.
I watch as the fire men stand ready beside their gurney. I watch as police on several levels of the parking garage seal off this side of the structure with bright yellow crime tape.
I stare at the man who is surrounded by an Aura of sunshine and blue sky.
Above him are the heavens and fluffy white clouds.
I try and imagine what is going on in his life that has lead him to this moment. Is he here because a loved one is sick? Perhaps he is sick? I probably will never know.
The man is teetering on the outside of the barrier, some 75 feet in the air. Below him is a sheer drop to unforgiving pavement.
A fall will immediately end his life.
Just then a police officer in a crisp blue uniform arrives.
“Where is he?” he says to the other officer on the scene.
“6th floor,” my friend the cop responds.
The negotiator gets in the elevator and disappears.
A witness standing beside me begins to whisper. “Yeah we saw him walk to his car. We thought it was odd that he walked past his car and then to the rail and then he hopped over. We said oh oh.”
Oh oh is right.
The clouds gently float in front of the sun, casting a shadow over the scene. I can see the man more clearly. I watch as he looks over his left shoulder.
The ground must look like a million miles away from up there. I wonder what the smooth, unyielding concrete must look like from a vantage point nobody should have. What is he thinking, I wonder to myself.
I squint into the sunshine. I see a police officer moving down the side of the cable toward the man. I cannot tell if it is the negotiator or another officer. The officer is cautious, moving slowly, trying not to spook the man on the outside of the cable.
The image of the distraught man, a caring police officer, and the weightless clouds floating above them is surreal.
It’s like all of heaven is the back drop for this terrible moment on Earth.
Can letting go of the cable really be the answer? Can letting gravity do the dirty work be acceptable.
Whatever it is, can’t it be worked out?
I watch the man and wonder if he lets go will I watch? Will I close my eyes and just listen to the sound of a life pounding the pavement. What will the last gasp of a man sound like?
Nobody wants to know.
Moments are tense. The man will fidget on the ledge, his bare sock dangling at times over the edge. How strong is he? How much heat can he absorb? What is the negotiator telling him?
An hour passes and it is suddenly over. The man decides to give life another try and allows officers to help him come back to the safe confines of the 6th floor.
I don’t know the man. I don’t what caused this moment of pain in his heart. I only hope he can get help and purge this evil from his brain.
I want to applaud the negotiator. I don’t know what he said, but I would love to ask him how he does what he does. How do you enter the cathedral of insanity, immediately befriend a stranger who is clinging to despair and gain trust? How do you sway a wayward soul from the edge of oblivion and convince him to give the only life we get, one more try.
If there is a ribbon to be given today, I would hand out two.
One to the man who decided to listen to reason. And one to the hero-cop who said all the right words in all the right tones to make a difference in another human’s life.
Suicide is never the answer and today was a good day.
And that is crazy.™