I just read an article that made me cry. I think that every day I
work in a newsroom I become just a little more cauliced to people's circumstances. I think that it's almost a requirement of the job...if I let everything bad that I see effect me I would go insane. But this story hit me.
His name was Demonte. Deomonte was a typical 10-year-old boy. He loved football and candy. He loved to play jokes and dance.
He was also a foster child, a romer with no real family. Five months ago Demonte's class at School 83 on the northeast side of Indianapolis was told to gather on the carpeted floor in the classroom. Marianne Karn, the teacher of the 5th and 6th grade combined classes told the students there had been a terrible tragedy in their class.
She explained that Demonte had been killed. She didn't go into details.
Demonte was at home in his bedroom when he was stabbed to death. The killer was his foster-mother's adult son.
To help some of Demonte's friends deal with their feelings one of the counselers took the students to see Demonte's grave. When they found it tucked in a back corner of a crowded Indy cemetary they were shocked and hurt.
Demonte didn't have a head stone. The only thing marking his grave was the fresh dirt laid over his casket. He had no family to pay for a head stone.
So Demonte's friends made a decision. They would pay for a head stone. They would not let thier friend be forgotten. But students at School 83 don't have a lot of spare cash around, and niether do their parents. So the students decided to have a fundraiser.
This afternoon, the last two hours of school, Demonte's friends will dance in his memory. They will dance with their Valentine's but remember their friend.
I know there are so many more Demonte's in the world...so many people with rough lives who live every day hoping they'll make it to the night. My thoughts and tears certainly don't do anything...I'm not sure what I can do anyway...but I don't understand why I was born into the wonderful family I have and others like Demonte are born into his life. I think it's wrong.
