Mona and Me

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Go past the video to read the column, you idiots.

When I was a kid, the local television station played the top 5 music videos of the week every Friday afternoon. Few of them stuck out, but one left an indelible mark on me.

I was five or six and easily the most vain child who ever lived. I loved to poke myself in the eye and run to the mirror to see if I could manage a single tear like my then-idol Susan Lucci could. I practiced raised eyebrows, sneers, smirks, looks of outrage and shock. I would slap my face and look indignantly at myself as I asked the mirror, "Do you know who I am?" I had great fake laughter and I could sob like a pro. I loved being melodramatic.

And then it happened. Doug Cameron and his god awful monotone entered my home and told the tale of a young girl executed for her beliefs. My brothers and I sat wide eyed watching this horrifying video; it left an imprint on all of us. Bloody foot prints, forced suicide, frightened children and that dorky guy in glasses. I cried real tears and didn't rush to the mirror to see what I looked like. As the video ended, we were told that this had actually happened. That 16 year old Mona had been taken from her home and killed because of her faith. It was months before I was able to kneel down in front of a mirror with a sheet draped over my head and a stuffed snake fashioned into a noose.

Years passed and this song faded into early 80s obscurity. Once the internet rolled around, I searched and searched for this song. I had no idea who sang it and all I could remember was Mona with the children. Some of the horrifying images would pop into my head and I'd make a mental note to run a google search; surely someone else in the world remembered this song. More than 20 years have passed and it still evokes emotion in me. Imagine my surprise today when I was searching youtube for the Lindsay Lohan bathroom cocaine video, and that song popped into my head. A quick search and there it was.

I sat mesmerized as I watched it over and over again. The video is horrible by today's standards and the song is awful by anyone's standards, but it had such an impact on me as a child. I didn't cry while watching it today. But I didn't snicker, either, and that's saying a lot. I remembered the girl I was before I became desensitized to the atrocities in the world. I cried for days for Mona. I drew pictures and made her a memorial. I whispered her name and crossed myself (though I'm not Catholic, it just seemed like the right thing to do.)

As I got older and the world got shittier, I spent less and less time crying over things I couldn't fathom actually happening. For the most part, I can now watch the news without covering my eyes half way through. I can read dry eyed about neglected children and school shootings. I don't lose sleep over murdered wives and the hundreds of thousands of children being orphaned by AIDS. But I remember a time when I did lose sleep and I did cry. I did want to do something, anything to stop this awfulness, these incomprehensible acts of horror inflicted upon people I will never know. And tonight, I will toss and turn wondering why I don't care anymore.