THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, December 10, 1995 TAG: 9512080211
SECTION: SUFFOLK SUN PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: John Pruitt
LENGTH: Medium: 72 lines
Stories last week about the elderly Windsor woman whose house was trashed for absolutely no reason brought outrage and sympathy. The outrage was justified, the sympathy what was expected.
Even if this atrocity had happened in July, the reaction would have been strong. But here it is a few days before Christmas, when most of us are adorning our homes with seasonal treasures, and practically everything in this 88-year-old woman's house is reduced to junk. How horrible, we think, that this lady would be so traumatized in this season of peace and goodwill.
It's not that Blanche Braswell had a lot of valuable possessions. But they were hers, and that made them valuable.
It's just heartbreaking to picture her cupping the one unbroken glass remaining of a set given to her by her daughter, now deceased; or grieving over a television that wasn't much good anyway, but that she refused to give up because her late husband had so enjoyed watching it.
Most of us probably understand that. Practically everyone, from young children to old folks, cling to things that, of themselves, are worth little or nothing. But the stories they epitomize make them priceless.
What household doesn't include, say, a frayed stuffed animal that has seen better days but that we just can't stand to part with, or a chipped plate that we'll never use but that still occupies a position of honor?
As we get older, I'm told, the familiar things of home become even more precious. That helps explain why an 88-year-old woman, with relatives close by, would continue on her own, and why she's so determined to pick up her life in the vandalized structure.
When I read of Mrs. Braswell, I thought of a former neighbor and the melancholy her family felt after fire destroyed their home. It wasn't the big things they talked about so longingly but the sentimental items: little gifts the now-grown children had presented so proudly; the dishes they'd inherited when the husband's mother died; the knickknacks that other people might just have thrown away as tacky junk.
But their loss was because of fire, which nobody could help. The reason for Mrs. Braswell's loss - if such a thing exists - awaits the trials of two young men accused of breaking and entering and destroying property.
Many a reader, I'm sure, share my curiosity in asking, ``What on earth could they have been thinking?'' The answer - and it's hard to conceive of anything even remotely acceptable - must wait.
In the meantime, though, there's heartening assurance in the kindnesses heaped on Mrs. Braswell by neighbors and strangers - the Chesapeake woman who drove to Smithfield to deliver a rocking chair to replace the one broken by the intruders; the Eastern Shore resident who offered a truckload of furniture; the Suffolk woman who's retired on disability but wanted to send a check.
Neighbors and family members turned out in force to clear four pickup loads of glass and other trash from Mrs. Braswell's formerly tidy home.
Still, her daughter said, ``she knows what she had is gone. She can't get that back.''
I hope those words stay with the person or persons convicted of demolishing Mrs. Braswell's world. More importantly, I hope they understand the message behind them.
I hope they'll remember forever the face of this frail woman and the joy they've stolen from her declining years.
I know the most important thing is to be grateful that Mrs. Braswell wasn't in the path of this destruction, but I'm not about to espouse the idea that worldly goods don't matter.
I just hope the kindness of so many people restores joy - in some measure.
Comment? Call 934-7553. by CNB