A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Three times in my life, I’ve found myself mesmerized by a photograph that touched me so profoundly I have difficulty removing the image from my mind.

Civil War Widows

The first time, I came across a photo from the Civil War taken in 1865, after Richmond fell. It depicts two widows dressed in black walking past the charred ruins of Virginia’s capital. The paradox of the image transfixed me, but it was not out of sympathy for their plight.

I felt like I wanted to jump into the photo and ask them a simple question:

Was it worth it?

They were sufficiently wealthy to afford mourning dresses such as what they wore, and Richmond had been a beautiful city. Virginia would likely have followed West Virginia and outlawed slavery within a couple of years anyway.

So, here we see them, possibly homeless and definitely hungry like they had never been before, relying on the Union Army for protection. What were they thinking to sacrifice everything they had for a cause they knew was destined to end? Did the pain and suffering they felt in the wake of the war ever go away?

A Boy’s Grief

I discovered the second photo by accident while researching the JFK assassination. It involved Medgar Evers, a civil rights activist in Jackson, Mississippi.

Evers was shot in the back in the early morning of June 12, 1963, while exiting his car, parked in his own driveway. He staggered to his front door, where his wife found him.

Evers died at the hospital less than an hour after being shot.

Just two days before, President Kennedy had given his famous commencement speech at American University, calling for peace and coexistence with the Soviet Union.

Hours later, Kennedy would address the nation on civil rights.

The June 28, 1963 cover of Life magazine shows Evers’ widow comforting their inconsolable nine-year-old son, Darrell, at his father’s funeral.

Now, many children have lost parents, and it is always a sad occurrence, but something about this photo stirred an emotion deep within me.

At such a tender age, this boy had to deal with terrible pain, and for no justifiable reason. He did not deserve this. I wonder if those responsible for Evers death had any remorse at all after seeing the damage they inflicted on an innocent boy.

Many years later, I still look at this photo with disbelief. I don’t want to look at it, but I can’t take my eyes off it.

A Hero’s Compassion

Recently, I came across a third photo, that of twenty-three-year-old Nicole Gee, one of the thirteen US. service members killed in Kabul by a suicide bomber on August 26, 2021.

Please make no mistake; all thirteen who died are heroes, as are all Americans who have given their lives or have been seriously injured in service to our country.

But there was something about Nicole’s eyes as she looked at the Afghan infant she cradled in her arms: an inner-goodness. I think it is representative of how most U.S. military personnel throughout this country’s existence have conducted themselves.

Indeed, there are those whose behavior has shamed our nation, but they are few and far between. There have been, and are, many, many more like Nicole Gee.

Like those before her, she represented all that is good about America, which is why civilians in foreign theaters of war always run to the Americans for protection when they are in harm’s way.

I do not know if it is because I have a daughter and three granddaughters, but I could feel something special about Nicole through this photo. That she was someone we all can aspire to emulate.

So, rest in peace, Nicole. You died much too young, but you did not die needlessly. You touched many people at such a tender age, something most of us cannot do no matter how long we live. You reminded the world just what America stands for, and I have no doubt you will be an inspiration not just to Americans, but to young people the world over who want to make a difference.

Godspeed.