Please forgive us, but this business will turn you cold over time. Read the papers. Most of the news isn’t good. Children die. It makes the news. That’s how it (often) works.
So please forgive us if everything inside screamed that you’d never make it. That is, even if you were still among the living when we first heard your name, oh, more than a decade ago. People had their doubts that you’d ever sleep in your own bed again. Especially inky wretches. A child vanishes. This time in Utah. All most of us can do is clinch our fists. Maybe cry.
Your visit just over at West Siloam Springs, Oklahoma, the other day was remarkable. That is, people remarked on it. And should have. Your story brings hope to anybody still looking for a missing child. And you don’t have to go much farther than the nearest super store to see all the Alerts at the entrances. There are many missing children.
Everybody who’s been awake overthe last decade knows your story. Kidnapped. Held for nine months. You travel to speak about your experience and to draw crowds for charitable outfits. Bless you.
You’re 24 years old now, and-if you don’t mind our saying-goodness, you have grown into a beautiful woman. And married yet? Bless both of you. Here’s to many happy days. (Unsolicited advice: Let him think he’s right once in a while.)
Thank you for speaking out, young lady. On topics you shouldn’t know from. But somebody has to do it. Somebody has to raise money for foundations that combat these kind of crimes. That teach the young the proper way to resist. That instruct parents on how to react should the worst happen. That strive to prevent . . . what happened to you.
Elizabeth Smart, you are hope. Please come back when you can stay a while longer. And in Arkansas next time. Be our guest.
Editorial, Pages 12 on 10/26/2012