Southside El Paso, February 27, 2024
Text and Photograph by Bruce Berman
Dodged the bullet again. Well, this time there is no ‘explainin’ it so it’s fair to say, a hand deflected the fatal bullet.
Another chance.
Haven’t been doing photography much–for myself–in recent years. Been teaching. 34 semesters and most days in between spent on working at it. Caught up with me. Every word that went out came out of somewhere, somewhere where ghosts dance, that place deep inside where who we are actually lives. I built that up for years. Can one afford to let it go, driveled out in a million repetitions? And, for what? On February 12 a bomb exploded in my chest during my first class of the day. I taught my way through the whole class while The Reaper toyed with me, as God stood by and watched me gamble. Idiot! Why would I think God would intervene for a fool?
It wasn’t my time it turns out. Not now. Not yet. Why? All the right pieces fell together on the timeline, miraculous people showed up, the traffic parted ways for Mary’s defacto EMS Hyundai, and colleague Darren, always quiet, protecting his genius, appeared. Navy man. He all but carried me to the car then went into the building and with the precision of a true leader, with his cellphone, assembled the “troops,” at the nearby hospital, the cardiac team. Mary battled noon traffic. I was in and out, almost gone. We got there and Dr. Miracle, Abdul, his Rock ‘n Roll med team, waiting, like a great band about to play the once in a lifetime anthem; Lights Out.
I died twice. They brought me back, twice.
Here I am.
Now I walk away from my job of 17 years. I have turned off the noise so I can hear what is peripheral. Today I am 17 days old.
I am new. I am old. With many hands and hearts holding me, knowing it was even bigger hands that would decide this day, I am here.
Today–17 days latter–my doctor parted our meeting with this: “You have a second chance. Go and do something good.”
This is the 1st photograph of my 3rd life (there has been two other near misses, none as near as this). I shot it yesterday.
Hello again.
I did it for me.
I will never talk about this image–or any others–again. Medicine comes in many guises. Don’t dilute your cure. I have a lot of reseeding to do. I think whatever days we have should be used adding to our “book,” or at least gaining back what we flittered away.
I start again. Another chance.
I am 17 days old today.
