Extraordinary Edwards
What a spectacular life was lived by the extraordinary Elizabeth Edwards, and what a mix of triumph and misery it became.
Mrs. Edwards rode with her husband from humble beginnings to extraordinary wealth and political power, the family coming close to occupying the White House.
She and husband John were parents of four, and lost a child tragically in his teens.
As she battled to survive breast cancer, Mrs. Edwards first learned that her husband was having an affair with a campaign photographer and later, that he had fathered a child with the woman.
The senator initially lied to his wife and to the nation about both matters.
She was not able to endure in private the ultimate marital indignity and humiliation that had been inflicted on her; rather, she occupied the national spotlight in explaining her reaction to it.
She was a bright, charismatic dynamo on the campaign trail, able to intelligently discuss any issue without a teleprompter, a role that many spouses of candidates could not perform.
To her discredit, she continued to campaign hard for her husband despite knowing that he was not the fine, family man of moral values that he portrayed himself to be, that his affair could be his undoing and could have subjected him to blackmail and the nation to chaos had he been elected.
May Elizabeth Edwards be remembered for the grit, determination and grace that she demonstrated while under fire both physically and emotionally.
It is sad that she was not able to die with the unconditional love of the husband with whom she raised a family.
— Oren M. Spiegler, Upper Saint Clair, Pa.
Obituary words
I am baffled by the terminology used by the media to describe Elizabeth Edwards’ death from breast cancer. According to many mainstream news outlets, she “lost the battle,” “lost the fight” or, simply “lost her struggle” with cancer.
Does that mean she wasn’t up to the challenge or did cancer just “want it more?”
As a friend and family member of many good people who have died of cancer-related causes, I really think that media should find another metaphor to characterize what patients go through or, preferably, just state the fact that Mrs. Edwards died of breast cancer.
The facts would be more sensitive than creating some dramatic myth that makes the patient out to be a loser.
— Kathleen M. Ziegler, Chicago
A source of hope
Speaking for the 155,000 Americans with metastatic breast cancer, we mourn the loss of Elizabeth Edwards.
She inspired her fellow Stage IV sisters.
Despite her illness she maintained an active schedule — a source of hope for those similarly afflicted.
We hear often about women, particularly celebrities, who have completed their treatment for an early-stage breast cancer.
We rarely hear about women like Edwards whose breast cancer is treatable but ultimately unbeatable.
As a high-profile woman with metastatic breast cancer, Edwards was the public face of an advanced disease most people prefer to ignore.
We were all rooting for her.
As people with metastatic breast cancer, we are incurable.
Our best hope is that when one treatment fails, another option will be available.
Sadly eventually every woman with metastatic breast cancer will find, as Elizabeth Edwards did, that all avenues have been exhausted.
May we handle our own struggles with the grace, courage and poise she showed us.
We will remember our sister Elizabeth.
— Katherine O’Brien, volunteer, Metastatic Breast Cancer Network, La Grange
A source of strength
Reading the Tribune’s Dec. 8 obituary on Elizabeth Edwards, I was angered. It was negative. The headline included “Attorney and wife faced public trials.”
In contrast, years back, a Tribune obituary warmly celebrated the life of my aunt, Rose Terchek, who ran a neighborhood bar in North Chicago.
Yet for Edwards, an accomplished public figure and mother who inspired so many throughout this nation, the writer offers “her life became tabloid fodder.”
Most British royalty and all celebrity are tabloid fodder; that’s not worth wasting column space on.
The point is that she did not seek celebrity. When she arrived in the spotlight, she did shine. Edwards demonstrated her values with authenticity. She had strength, courage, intelligence, appreciation.
For me, she will be a source of strength, as others in my life who have passed on have become.
— Sandra Petroshius, Grayslake
County’s voters
This is in response to “New Assessor Berrios hires his son, sister” (News, Dec. 9). Joe Berrios and nepotism: Brazen, blatant, clearly against the desires of voters, he hires family members — again.
When will the voters in this county wake up? My guess is never.
Not sure where I can go to escape this madness, but I’m surely looking.
— Tim Redmon, Willow Springs
Price of gambling
This is in response to “Gaming is good” (Voice of the People, Dec. 3), by Tim Carey, president and general manager, Hawthorne Race Course. Carey says that gambling is good, and for him it is but not for the majority of us in Illinois.
What the pushers of a massive gambling expansion bill in Springfield shout about are the benefits that they calculate in terms of revenue, taxes and jobs. What they are silent about are the costs. They treat gambling income as if it were free money; it is not.
When Earl Grinols was a professor of economics at the University of Illinois, he wrote “Gambling in America” (2004). With meticulous care he developed a model that evaluated both the benefits and costs of gambling as an industry. When he evaluated the direct impact of gambling on public costs related to crime, loss of productivity in other businesses, bankruptcy, suicide, illness, social services and regulatory oversight, he determined that we pay $3.90 for every $1 we receive.
No one in his or her right mind would fall for such a scam unless he or she is the one who receives the $1.
Follow the money and see who wins and who loses.
The bill in Springfield is bad economics, bad government and bad public policy for most of us but a generous “take” for a few.
— Philip Blackwell, Chicago
Cubs loss
In 1998 when Harry Caray died, my Cubs fan son lost his TV grandpa.
Now with Ron Santo gone, he has lost his radio grandpa.
— Carol Hausmann, Tinley Park
