Last night/this morning, I was out watching a movie with a
couple of friends.
The Thin Red Line.
It was a night-cinema, and it is kind of long, so as 3 a.m. was
approaching, we searched the street for a taxi. And I found
that I stood, not exactly, but almost,
on the spot where our prime minister was shot in 1986.
February 28th, 1986, to be precise.
So I took a few steps, and looked.

There´s a small plaque in the ground at the spot. And they
say there´s always fresh roses there. I only saw one though,
and not a good one at that. The people´s feet and the wind had
scattered it.
And the rain of course. It´s always raining on the lone man in
the coat who watches the scene of the crime on a city street.

So then, is that having lived a good life,
when you get a plaque put in the ground to honour your
memory, and people you never met while being alive put roses
by it, everyday?
Does that mean you were a good person, that you made a
difference, more so, perhaps, than others?
Or, did this after your death suddenly give your life more
meaning, and is this an important part of living life, seeing to
it that you are remembered, not only by the ones you know or
are related to?
To make headlines. To shock the world.

It´s natural to remember people who changed things.
And we do.
We remember our presidents, prime ministers and John
Lennon as well as Hitler and Stalin. And Lee Harvey Oswald.
But I think the world´s too full of celebrities.
Everyone wants their own spotlight, and
their name to light up the sky, and
it seems the best way to do that, is to die.
Die while you´re at it. Die while you´re riding the wave.
That´s what made James Dean, and that´s why the Beatles
always will be great. They never got the chance to embarrass
themselves by sweeping across the world with a reunion tour
as old men wanting new money.
Youth is king in that business.
And no one had to see James Dean grow old.

Then of course, some people who passed away too soon may
very well deserve the honour. But take all those everyday
heroes. You know, the earnest, hard-working, supporting
day-by-day-kind who teaches their kids to be good persons
and follow their hearts.
When they are gone, who but their own will remember them?
So if one is going by that rule, perhaps
it is better to be wanted for murder, than
not being wanted at all.

(Although, being wanted for murder is, arguably, easier to
explain than being wanted for something like.. well, theoretically
of course, administering oral sex to any high-ranking official.)

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