By JAMES TARANTO
Among the most evocative stories to come out of last week's horror in Aurora, Colo., are those of the three men who died saving the lives of their girlfriends. The
New York Post recounted them on Saturday:
Jonathan Blunk, 26, "threw his date, Jansen Young, 21, to the floor, pushing her under the seat. 'Stay down!' he told her, moments before he was shot to death." Blunk "drew on his military experience. 'He knew, and threw me on the ground and was like, "We have to get down and stay down," ' [Young] told the 'Today' show." She added: "He took a bullet for me."
Matt McQuinn, 27, was at the movie with girlfriend Samantha Yowler, also 27, and her brother, Nick. "When [the gunman] started firing into the audience, Matt and Nick, sitting with Samantha between them, 'both jumped sideways in front of her,' family lawyer Ron Scott told The Post. 'Matt took three hits, one in the chest, one in the back, and one in the leg,' he said." Samantha was wounded but survived. So did Nick.
Alex Teves, 24, "used his body to cover girlfriend Amanda Lindgren, Teves' grandmother Rae Iacovelli told The Post. 'He shielded her. He got down on the floor and covered her up,' said Iacovelli, . . . 'She was pulled out from under him. I don't know who pulled her out.' "
These acts of heroism have been met with celebration and wonderment.
Hanna Rosin of Slate:
Papers have described what happened in the theater as "chivalry." But it's not really that. Chivalry is a code of conduct connected to social propriety. Throwing your body in front of your girlfriend when people all around you are getting shot is an instinct that's basic, and deeper. It's the same reason these Batman and Spider-Man franchises endure: Because whatever else is fading away, women still seem to want their superhero, and men still seem to want to be him.
We got to thinking about these stories last night, and our musings led to an
ill-considered tweet: "I hope the girls whose boyfriends died to save them were worthy of the sacrifice."
We intended this to be thought-provoking, but to judge by the response, very few people received it that way. The vast majority found it offensive and insulting. This column has often argued that a failure of public communication is the fault of the public communicator, and that's certainly true in this case. What follows is an attempt to answer for this failure with a circumspect accounting of our thoughts.
What makes the stories of Jansen Young, Samantha Yowler and Amanda Lindgren especially poignant is that their boyfriends' dying acts simultaneously dealt them an unfathomable loss and gave them an invaluable gift--a gift of life. Their loss is all the more profound because the gift was one of love as well. In instinctively making the ultimate sacrifice, each of these men proved the depth of his devotion. They passed a test to which most men, thankfully, are never put--and then they were gone.
These three women owe their lives to their men. That debt can never be repaid in kind, because life is for the living and cannot be returned to the dead. The closest they can come to redeeming it is to use the gift of their survival well--to live good, full, happy lives.
People live on after death in the memories of those who loved them. Sometimes when this columnist does something we consider worthwhile, our thoughts turn to our father, who died four years ago: "Dad would be proud." That is our hope for Young, Yowler and Lindgren: that in the years to come, each of them will have many opportunities to reflect that Jon or Matt or Alex would be proud of her.