‘What’s the worth of one warm smile? Go and ask the dead man’

By David McElroy · October 23, 2011

There’s nothing like thinking about death to focus your mind on how you really feel about life. I’ve been thinking about death a lot recently — for various reasons — and it’s left me loving life even more.

A couple of people have recently talked to me about wanting to die. That hits me hard, because I see both of them as having the capacity to have long and fulfilling lives ahead of them and because it’s so different from how I feel about life.

At the risk of sounding obvious, the specifics of life can be terribly difficult. I’m certainly not where I want to be. I don’t have the love or money or position or achievements that I’d like to have. I frequently don’t know how to get from where I am now to where I’d like to be — how to bring the vivid picture in my mind into being. But I’ve never lost hope. When Death comes for me, he’ll have to carry me kicking and screaming if he wants to take me.

Another reason I’ve had death on my mind this week is because of the death of a baby in a family on my street a week ago. The little boy was born six or eight weeks ago with serious problems. They were problems that could be fixed with surgery, but he had to get stronger to survive the surgery. He never got strong enough, so he died. His parents never got to hold him until the last moments when the life was slipping away from his tiny body.

As I thought about these things again Saturday — the difference between people who see life as something to toss away and others who are devastated by the loss of life — I stopped at a small country cemetery not terribly far from here to think about it quietly. That’s the entrance to the cemetery looking back at the road. As I walked around, I couldn’t help but look at the tombstones and wonder about the stories of the people buried there. What were their lives like? Were they happy? Did they love other people? Did they do things with their lives that they were proud of? And did they love their lives as much as I love mine?

I have no way of knowing. I can only answer through the lens of my own feelings and thoughts since I’ll never know their stories or their feelings. I can imagine, though.

I saw adjacent headstones for two teen-agers who died on the same day in 1973. I assume it was a car accident or a house fire or something unexpected. Sixteen-year-old Jerry and his brother thought they had long lives ahead of them, but they were cut short on May 25, 1973 for reasons I’ll never know. What would they have done differently in the days leading up to that day if they had known they were about to die? What would they appreciate that actually took for granted?

I was reminded of the words to an obscure 1987 rock song called “Go Ask the Dead Man.” (The album from Mark Heard was released using the pseudonym Ideola.) It’s all about understanding the value of life by looking at the mundane things a dead man can no longer experience:

What’s the worth of one warm smile?
Go and ask the dead man
How bright the light in loved ones’ eyes?
Go ask the dead man
Where’s the charm in cloudy skies?
Go and ask the dead man
Oh — go ask the dead man

Who has eyes for an evening sun?
Go and ask the dead man
The smell of earth, the sound of storms?
Go ask the dead man
How intense is the lightest touch?
Go and ask the dead man
Oh — go ask the dead man

They say dead men tell no tales
But if you want to hear your own heart beating
Listen well, listen well
Go ask the dead man
Go ask the dead man

How potent is the joy of fools?
Go and ask the dead man
What price these diplomatic duels?
Go ask the dead man
What sorrow in the rape of rules?
Go and ask the dead man
Oh — go ask the dead man

I love life. I’m not ready to join those who’ve died. I’m grateful that I didn’t die at 16. I’m grateful that I didn’t die at 29. When I was younger, I believed — as most of us do — that the life that stretched ahead of me was almost endless. I realize now that it’s not. It makes me live each day differently than I did at the time.

I believe that when I die, my soul will move on to a better place. But I also believe that the God who created me placed me here for reasons. It’s up to me to find those reasons and make my life worthwhile. I want to experience love again. I want to experience having my own children. I want to experience the joy of knowing that I’ve achieved the purposes for which I was put here.

Part of that, though, isn’t about the so-called big things. For me, it’s about happy dogs and purring cats. It’s about noticing clouds and rainbows, such as the one I saw in this colorful sky in June. It’s about laughing and connecting with people you love. It’s about appreciating warm smiles, the evening sun and distant storms. Most of all, it’s about appreciating the light in loved ones’ eyes.

I want to live and appreciate the beauty and tactile wonder and emotional depths of the world around me. I look forward to experiencing the next life, but I’m going to appreciate everything I can about this one. It’s a precious gift God’s given to me. I’m going to hold onto it for as long as I can force breath into my body.

No matter what your circumstances are, life can be good. It’s worth living — and it’s worth living with an open heart and with open eyes.

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When I first heard about this, I thought it must be satire. When I discovered it was real, I was appalled, but I still thought it must be a one-time thing from some nutty activist. But it turns out it’s the latest bit of pandering to a bunch of far-left activists who believe that a man can become a woman if he decides to claim he’s a woman. As everybody knows, men have prostate glands. Women do not. Period. End of story. Men can get prostate cancer. Women cannot. But political activists are so eager to pretend that a man claiming to be a “trans woman” is really a woman that they are insisting that “women” be included in public health messages about the issue. This is nothing but political virtue-signaling. If you’re a man, you know which parts you have. You know that you ought to be screened. Nobody is made any safer by dragging far-left gender ideology into simple medical reality.

Every time someone tries to tighten requirements around the use of absentee ballots, I hear screams from Democrats and others on the political left that such efforts are nothing but “suppression of black voters.” These protests have never made sense to me, especially because it’s never been a secret that absentee ballot fraud goes on all the time in certain areas. (Everybody knew it when I worked in politics.) The people who engage in such fraud are rarely caught — often because the local political establishment approves of the crime — but a Democrat who won a primary election in Clay County, Alabama, last year has pleaded guilty to this sort of cheating. Terry Andrew Heflin was running for a place on the Clay County Commission. He was caught ordering seven absentee ballots in the names of various voters and sending them to his post office box — after which he used the ballots to vote absentee for himself seven time. Did he have other people cast additional fraudulent ballots? We’ll never know. But in a primary in which he was able to win with only 141 votes, it wouldn’t take many fraudulent votes to change the election. The next time you hear “civil rights activists” claim that it’s just “voter suppression” to hurt blacks which is at the root of efforts to stop this fraud, remember Terry Heflin. If you care about fair and honest elections, ballot security and voter identity should matter to you.

A state legislator in Maine has been stripped of the ability to speak in the state Legislature — and her votes are not being counted on legislative issues — all because she made a truthful social media post. Rep. Laurel Libby (R-Auburn, Maine) opposes allowing boys to compete against girls’ teams in school athletics and she’s become known for making an issue of it. On Feb. 17, she posted on Facebook about a recent example that she found outrageous. She posted side-by-side photos of a boy named John who competed last year in a state track event and won fifth place against other boys two years ago — and a photo of the same boy (now called Katie) who won first place in the same event this year against girls. Whether you find this outrageous or not, Libby is clearly being honest and truthful about the objective facts of an issue of public importance. But the state Legislature censured her. Democrats decreed that she could not speak in the House and that her votes would not count on legislation — until she apologized for the outrage of telling the truth. She refused and her constituents have been unrepresented in the state House since then. The people who promote this ideology are out of touch with reality and won’t rest until they force the rest of us to join them in this delusion. But even if you agree with “trans” ideology, you should be appalled at this heavy-handed attack on political speech.

The late Steve Jobs was at the center of our culture’s transition from analog to digital. He co-founded Apple Computer. He led the team that revolutionized personal computing with the first Macintosh. As CEO of Apple, he led the development of the iPhone and later the iPad. You would think the children of such a man would be surrounded by technology. But Jobs and his wife Laureen didn’t let their children use iPads. Their home had few screens of any kind. Even though Jobs spent most of his time developing and selling Macs and iPhones and iPads, he was home with his wife and children for dinner when he was in town. The family ate together at a simple wooden table in their kitchen — and there were no digital devices or focus on popular culture. Instead, he’s said to have guided his family toward deep discussions of art, philosophy and education — with no iPads to be found. If the man who guided the development of such products chose a different path for his own children, does that suggest that his digital experience taught him that children need human connection, not screens? And does it suggest the possibility that we might be better off if we made the same choice for our families?

For four years, Donald Trump’s supporters screamed that everything that went wrong was the fault of Joe Biden. They were sometimes right and they were sometimes delusional. (Anybody who knows me understands that I can’t stand Biden any more than I can stand Trump, just for different reasons.) But for two months, Trump has rampaged through U.S. political life — vandalizing pretty much everything in sight — and the vast majority of his supporters are silent at best. Many watch as he blows up the world economy and they make excuses for him. They’re in absolute denial, even about things that Trump is doing very intentionally. Anybody who understands economics and history knows that tariffs are a terrible idea from a pragmatic point of view. Anybody who values individual freedom knows that tariffs are massive taxes on individuals — and they’re a tool of political control over the ability of people to trade freely. Trump is the antithesis of everything which political conservatives stood for just a few years ago. It’s far past time for people who claim to be conservatives to reclaim the principles and values which they used to claim — and stop this mad man before he can accelerate the day when we experience economic and social collapse. Open your eyes to reality and reject this lying narcissist.

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