I'm Furious with so many of you...

You know how as a parent or aunt or uncle or grandparent, even as an older sibling, you naturally respond differently to dumb-ass accidents versus truly egregious stupidity?

Your parents did that, right? So did some of your teachers. Haven't we all stared dumbstruck at the teenager who suddenly acts no brighter than a cabbage? You think, "What the hell happened? Did he just sustain a blow to the head?"

You cannot begin to fathom why in the name of God an intelligent child just did something so colossally stupid it's mind blowing -- and you find yourself saying in the most withering parental terms, "Have you lost the brains God gave you?" and "What the hell were you thinking?"

Maybe he thought it funny to give his little sister a cigarette or a beer... maybe he thought it reasonable to ride a mountain bike off a steep hill into the field of possible death...

We all know that the same child who once demonstrated the most remarkable insight, calm response in a crisis, or common sense far exceeding his or her years can suddenly, almost over night, seem either possessed by the devil or suffering organic brain disease.

This morning I woke thinking of a dear friend's son, Neil. When he was only 5 years old, Neil demonstrated astonishing intelligence and calm that saved his babysitter's life. His sitter was a 17-year-old girl who went into respiratory distress from a life-threatening asthma attack.

Neil called 911 and reported his babysitter, Lisa, "can't breathe right" and "I think she's choking" (his exact words). We learned later that the 911 dispatcher told Neil to stay on the phone with her but he said he couldn't do that; he told her (and this is the funny part) "hold that thought, OK? I have something to do..." -- and so he did: Neil had the amazing foresight to put the family's German shepherd in the basement because he knew the dog would not let anyone into the house unless his parents were there. Then he unlocked the front door so the paramedics could enter and went to the end of the driveway to wait for them. When he saw them he started jumping up and down and waving them into the driveway lest they miss the house.

As to the dog, Neil explained later that "Baron would never let them in the house and they'd have to shoot him to save Lisa." It was true: Baron was the best dog in the world but there would be no way in hell that 105-pound German shepherd would allow a bunch of strangers to storm into the house in all their first-responder outfits and gear. Baron would have died before that happened -- unless of course he was told to stand-down... but Neil said he didn't think Baron would obey him because (as he also explained to his parents), "You weren't here and Baron loves me. It's his job."

Let me repeat: Neil was five years old. Actually, I think he was 2 months short of being 5.

Now let's fast forward to the day, ten years later, when I prayerfully sat in the Surgical Waiting Room with Neil's distraught parents and grandparents as a team of surgeons tried to put Neil back together again. That 17-hour surgery saved his life but Neil would have to undergo many more surgeries over the next 4 years.

I was there when the police explained to his flabberghasted parents what actually happened; they pieced it together through the tearful admissions of Neil's remorseful friends and the more coherent testimony of two adults who witnessed it. The adults, a couple who were hiking the trails that day with their dog, said they saw Neil at the top of a high hill clearly preparing to ride down the hill the wrong way... it was a treacherous path that would hurl him directly into huge rocks and boulders in front of a stream with a fast current (the stream, by the way, was relatively shallow and also loaded with rocks).

The adults started yelling at him that he was going the wrong way (to the jeers of his friends who were egging him on with "Do it Neil!" and "I dare you Neil!"). Neil ignored the adults and unable to execute an Evil Knieval over the boulders and then land in the stream, proceeded to smash his body into the boulders -- some of which were the size of a small car.

Neil, one of the smartest little kids I've ever known, fractured his spine in 2 places, broke a dozen other bones, and suffered a brain bleed.

There was no cell phone coverage in that area and that delayed calling for help. Also, it took almost 2 hours for the emergency responders to reach his smashed body down that dangerous ravine, stabilize him for transport and bring him up to the ambulance.

I remember his parents' relief when one surgeon from the surgical team told us the surgery appeared successful and Neil was stable and in recovery. His mom sobbed and his dad just stood mute, still in shell-shock.

Eventually, as the full measure of Neil's recklessness and sheer stupidity set in, I saw the parental anger set in also -- and boy did I understand. It's when the crisis stabilizes somewhat and you have time to think about "what could have been" and you say a really furious "WTF?"

Neil's dad was particularly angry. He kept saying "I don't get it... he's such a damn smart kid..." and then came "If Neil survives this, I swear I'll want to kill him myself..."

I think all parents get this...

Neil had clearly somehow lost those proverbial brains we like to believe God gives us all at birth.

And here's where I'm going with this... Neil came to mind this morning as I realized how angry I am; how really, really damn angry I am.

I am just fricking furious.

I see myself standing over a shattered entity on life support and through my tears I am coming to terms with another feeling I do not want to have and yet I do... and I hear myself whispering, "America, what the fuck were you thinking?"

America, have you lost all the brains God gave you?

Boy, if you survive this... I swear to God I'm going to want to wring your bloody neck...

Hold that thought; I have things to do but I'll get back to you...