Class, Or Lack Thereof
The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois.
I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless. Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001. It was one of those things that can generate crime: two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job. Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things. Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold. But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find. His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead. He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds. He will be paralyzed for life.
None of this is pleasant. Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant. Dwight didn't deserve to die for his dealing activities or the money he made from it, and Darryl shouldn't have gone through the gruesome ordeal he suffered that night 12 years ago. The people who attacked him and his son were scumbags. The Boyd brothers received 100-115 years in prison, and a Greek, who was tried in his native land received 14 years for his involvement. Note to self: Greece may be the cradle of civilization, but they are way behind the curve on 'Justice'.
Except for Darryl there are no squeaky-clean guys involved in this story. Dwight would go up to the bars sometimes with a wad of cash from his sales and treat everyone to a few drinks. He flashed his cash too often, and the Boyd's wanted it. Dwight was 34 when he died. That's not a long time on earth. Now he is under earth for eternity. That's a long long time. A right smart piece of time. Just about every second of whatever time is left of this world.
So, and I'm finally getting to my point, why not be classy in death? Sure, we all have trouble finding our way and sometimes it seems trouble finds us. And maybe you weren't the classiest guy in town, or even close. But class doesn't take brains, or money, or lineage, or a good job, or education, or anything else. Class is free. So why couldn't the family of Dwight Vice show some class and construct a tombstone that might reflect class he had trouble showing in life? I've visited the grave and around the base are beer cans, cigarette butts, and stuff like that.
Was there no one in the family who said perhaps a gravestone with Dwight flashing the bird to anyone and everyone for all eternity might not best reflect the values of this family, or Dwight, or his kid? Class is classless, and everyone has it. All you have to do is show it.
Class dismissed.
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