Mat got me thinking about why I care. I don't know James Kim. I guess it is possible I could have known him at some point.
The outcome is a small obscenity. His wife should still have her husband; his daughters should still have their father; his co-workers should still be laboring beside their colleague.
I don't think "it could have me," not literally. I've never driven through that corner of Oregon. I am thinking about ways that the Arizona/New Mexico drive A. and I took a couple of years ago could have gone differently.
I feel proud of him for trying to save his family. That's the measure of a (hu)man, not some knuckle-dragging masculinist caricature but the do-anything-I-mean-ANYTHING attitude of looking out for and watching over one's loved ones.
And I liked seeing the media flooding the zone over a missing person of color. It made me feel stubbornly better. It feels a little bit like one of those victories that still fucking sucks. The flood of warmth you feel right before you realize you've gone and pissed all over yourself. That's seeing race where, say, in this instance, rescue personnel and sheriff's deputies and the great, great majority of people hearing about the family don't give a shit.
They just wanted James Kim home.