Why?

Perhaps the purpose of the question is, in fact, the question itself.

Death at any point along life's timeline forces individuals to pause and consider their own mortality. The dimension of that consideration - the question of why - expands greatly when the lives that are lost are young people, whose boundless potential for doing good now seemingly will go unfulfilled.

Although I did not know her personally, Liz Koenigsknecht was by all accounts of her many friends and acquaintances a loving and caring person. She enjoyed life - knew the meaning of teamwork as evidenced by her aptitude on the softball diamond; took pleasure from giving of herself to others, especially young children; brought smiles and laughter to her family.

In her brief 18 months, little Mackenzie Endres had only just begun to experience the joys of life - but even in that short time span, she certainly left indelible fingerprints on the hearts and minds of family and friends.

In life, each touched and enriched the people they knew and came in contact with. In death, Liz and Mackenzie touched us all.

And therein lies a partial answer to "why."

A good friend provided the essence of the explanation last Thursday night while we were standing outside the Paine-Gillam-Scott Museum after a meeting, watching across the Courthouse parking lot as people milled around St. Joseph Church following the conclusion of the Vigil Service for Liz.

"Each generation has its own time of sorrow," she said. "For us, it was Jack Wyrick. Here was this good and decent person, looking forward to college - and all of sudden, he was gone. Why?"

As was the case then in 1959 - or a decade later in 1967-71 when my generation endured the pain of losing Brent Law, Duane Downing, Richard Randolph and others in Vietnam - framing the question helps us define who we are and who we will become.

Death is a necessary part of life - sorrow is intertwined with joy.

When Brent was killed in Vietnam, I recall quite vividly copying down a favorite passage from "The Prophet" and taking it along with yellow roses to his parents, Bob and Lillian Law. A portion of 'On Joy and Sorrow' seems equally appropriate today.

"Your joy is your sorrow unmasked… And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

"Is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

"When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."

It's a sad, hard burden to bear - but it is the truth, and it is necessary.

To the families of these young people, we extend our heartfelt sympathy. You are not alone.

It's difficult now, as an emotional week draws to a close, to reflect back and conjure up the perfect images of a weekend trip to the Upper Peninsula. One of the greatest blessings of my life has been various opportunities to explore this magnificent part of Michigan - and, in particular the Keweenaw Peninsula.

The Copper Country is utterly unique to itself - I absolutely believe that there is no other place on earth quite like this land with its rocky cliffs, steeply wooded hills, and the awesome majesty of Lake Superior that surrounds its three sides.

The original plan for this column was a rather light-hearted look at the fun experiences I had with my hosts, Joe and Doris Chaudier, who are the parents of a daughter-in-law, Karrie.

Suffice to say that in a short 54-hour time span, we managed to hit all the 'must' stops - various eateries serving pasties and fresh whitefish, and a veggie pizza from Marie's Deli in Houghton; Trenary Toast; obligatory stop at the Monk's Jampot for baked goods, and purchase of thimbleberry jam from the Jam Lady in Eagle River; and frozen custard cones at a little drive-in near L'anse.

It's a place I'd never been before, however, that provides the most lasting - and peaceful - picture from this particular trip: the Falls River. Sparkling, clean water cascades over the rocks on the unspoiled river that runs past the Chaudier cabin - the rush of the water creating a melody of music guaranteed to soothe any troubled soul.