> ## Content Index
> Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.smdp.com/llms.txt
> Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further.

# David Pisarra: Reading the obituaries and the young faces that stop us
- URL: https://www.smdp.com/david-pisarra-send-comments-to-editor-smdp-com-whats-the-point-20070313/
- Published: 2007-03-13T15:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-24T23:38:57.000Z
- Author: Guest Author
- Tags: Opinion, Santa Monica, #archive-import

*A picture tells the story of a life lost*

*By DAVID PISARRA is a partner in the Santa Monica law firm of Pisarra & Grist specializing in Business Development.*

I WAS READING THE OBITUARIES THIS weekend. Looking out at me from the black and white pages, were pictures of people who had lived lives and had created enough love in their life to make someone want to publish their name and their picture and tell a bit about their life in the paper.

For most people,this is how they will be getting into the paper. Most people lead lives of marriage, job, family. It is a quiet life that most people actually seek. They just want to have happy holidays and fond memories of playing with the kids and have a place to call their own.

Most obituaries are just what you expect. An older person, whose life was full has passed away. Generally peacefully, frequently in bed, and mostly at night. As we age, we come to want this sort of “happy death.” A way of leaving this world with dignity and grace. You can skip most obituaries, because they are generally not all that different.

But there are those that you can’t not read. The ones that reach out and grab you.

For me, it is almost always a picture that does the grabbing. Usually of some fresh-faced young man, in uniform, with a stoic look on his face, being the warrior. Sometimes it is that same young man, but in a moment of happiness. He was caught off-guard, and the joy of his life shows through.

This weekend it was of a young man playing with his two kids. It was the sort of scene that most parents witness hundreds of times. Dad playing with the kids, who are screaming in terror and joy, they are excited to be playing with dad, but can’t take any-more tickling, but don’t stop it either.

I didn’t read the headline. I couldn’t. I could barely stop the tears from coming down my face. All it took was to see the picture and I knew the story.

The actual particulars of the story weren’t necessary for me to feel the pain. The actual way in which this, one, young man died, were not the point. And that’s not to say his death was of no concern, quite the contrary, each one adds to the collective pain of the people we send to die in foreign lands.

It turns out that this particular soldier was kidnapped and executed, versus, being bombed, or snipered. But the point is, he is just as dead. This one just happened to be a man who was trying to help an Iraqi child with a heart problem. He was also trying to get life restarted by working with beeskeepers in Iraq.

He is described in his obituary as a humanitarian. He was assigned to the Civil Affairs department. The irony of a man working in “civil affairs” being kidnapped and killed in such an uncivilized way, is not lost on me.

I’ve frequently said that I would like to be President. I would really enjoy the use of Air Force One, and having the White House to throw some fabulous parties would certainly be a boon to my social life.

But I don’t know how Presidents send men to die. I don’t know how to lead men to their deaths, and I certainly don’t know how leaders sleep at night, knowing that as they sleep, others are doing their bidding and dying in the process.

I watch movies like “Patton” or “Alexander.” I’ve read Shakespeare’s “Henry V,” and I remember the moving speech given by Harry, right before the battle of Agincourt. “We few, we happy few.” And through it all, I cannot wrap my head around how these leaders are able to ask men to die for them. It makes no sense to me.

I suppose there is a certain amount of resignation involved, in that as President, one must be resigned to the fact that people die every day. That taking on a big project means sometimes people die, and that they know the risks of taking on a job like being in the military. I assume that part of wanting to be President is knowing that part of the job is sending people to their deaths and accepting it.

So I guess I’ll never be President, because I cry over the death of a man I’ve never met, whose family is unknown to me, and whose sacrifice is beyond me.

Captain Bryan Freeman, we never met, but I cried for you today.

*Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on March 13, 2007.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/031307.pdf?ref=smdp.com)