When You Are Born You Cry And The World Rejoices. Live Your Life So That When You Die The World Cries And You Rejoice

Welcome to the world Mr Zach Cassar, it's getting a little crowded, and I'm not sure how user-friendly it is any more but there are a ton of people out there who'd like it to be a little more Tiger and a little less XP. So to speak (ask me about that one later). You've got a good start in life with two exceptionally cool and loving parents and an elder sister who has so far, in her two short years, embodied more life and laughter than many who've lived twenty times that amount. I wish you well for the journey ahead, just don't get into being a Chelsea fan like your Dad...

It's been a funny old week, not one of my best but suitably improved by this morning's news. Ironic maybe that one of the other highlights was Channel Four's documentary: The Falling Man. If you missed / avoided it, it proved to be one of those examples of fine documentary making, eschewing sensationalism for careful, thoughtful study. Perhaps a little repetitive at times, but it covered the topic of those who jumped from the upper floors of the World Trade Center on the morning of September 11th, 2001 with great dignity and respect.

I wasn't aware of how quickly the pictures and footage of those who jumped was exorcised from the media coverage. I was shocked at the way in which the Coroner's Office apparently reported that none had jumped, only been blown through the windows. In some cases perhaps. But not all. Overall it represents our inability as a society to truly face all our demons. We concentrate on the heroism of the day, the grief for all those who lost their lives, perhaps too much for a nation to bear, the horror at the few who took the decision into their own hands, even more so.

But to airbrush the horror from reality is to paint a friendly, smiling face on the boogeyman when he's standing right infront of you with a powerdrill to your temple. The further we distance ourselves from the human essence of any tragedy, the easier it is for us to accept that tragedy. And to accept a tragedy of this kind, is to be complict with those who make them. If every victim of human violence were to be given a name, an address, a history, a record collection then soon we wouldn't be able to stomach the incessant horrors of a few men's twisted fantasies. And we'd start changing it because our only other choice would be to shut the entire programme down. All of us.

To me the saga of the Falling Man, embodies this idea, and the reluctanceof those to accept it, is a sure sign that we're not going to get any better. To me these people were faced with possibly the worst decision any human could make, to decide on how they were to die, there being no other alternative, and old age ripped from them. Those who consider them in some way cowardly or not worthy of respect and remembrance are unable to see the bravery in this decision. And those who feel God would punish them should surely have to examine their faith in a God not willing to accept the victims of such violence into his heaven. I can't think of a God I'd less rather have.

And I think of my sister's friend, Gillian, who jumped from Beachy Head last January. To think of what must have been going through her head as she looked down at the sea has haunted me ever since. She didn't face iminent death but the demons that haunted her must have been as toxic as the fumes that filled the top floors of the twin towers. And at some point, she, like those on September 11th, took that decision to step out into thin air. And fall.

It's not, I grant you, a particularly apt comparison to make, but in some way the programme has helped me to find some peace with what Gillian did. Perhaps, one day, the image of the Falling Man, might help to lay a few more of our demons to rest.

Tunes: Lloyd Cole: The Collection