Wasting Time?

I've been drafting an objection to a disclosure statement in a chapter 11 case for the past 4 hours--a technical objection that does little more than slow the path toward a debtor getting a reasonable plan of reorganization. While I've been bogged down in legal technicalities, pro formas, and budgets, a world away, mothers cheer, sons cry tears of joy, and 20 miners are seeing the sun for the first time in 69 days. Obviously, I don't know these men. They work in Chile. I will probably never see Chile. But I am fascinated? Intrigued? Sympathetic? Empathetic? Horrified? I don't know why I've spent over 7 hours of my time watching these rescues. Human nature dictates that I feel some kind of tie to these families simply by virtue of being human--but to the point of tears?

I am fascinated by the technical genius that created the drill that finally reached these men after 68 days. I am intrigued by the cinematography: I watch, spellbound, as the giant wheel spins, lowering the tiny "Phoenix" capsule that ultimately carries each man to his family. I am sympathetic to each mother who worries that her son hasn't eaten enough or doesn't have dry socks. I am empathetic toward those wives and girlfriends who fall asleep each night wondering if her beloved is really doing as well as he says. I am horrified that the road to joy is a dark, claustrophobic tunnel that could result in untold disasters.

I don't see my time spent watching these rescues as a waste of time. Each reunion reminds me of the day that Brian came home from Iraq, and I am reminded how much I love him. Each shot of the spinning wheel reminds me of how a seemingly simple solution can be life-changing. I am reminded that life goes on outside my climate-controlled office sitting high above Oklahoma City.

And so, my television remains turned on. I will continue to draft technical objections. And tonight, I will hug my little boy and my husband and hope that I never feel the exuberant joy that comes after an uncertain tragedy.