Land of the Lost

I've recently been getting into the world of "The Wire." For those that haven't seen it, "The Wire" is a gritty HBO drama centered on Baltimore. It features cops and criminals, focusing on the city's drug trade and associated crimes.

"The Wire" is an intense show about people living quietly hopeless lives. The panorama featured in the show is a place as foreign to me — and I'd wager most of the people who live in this area — as any far away land. But as I've been sucked into the story, I can't help but be moved by a couple ideas.

First is the high cost of trying to do what's right. Sometimes it's amazing to me, and a little bit sad, that it's hard to get anyone to care about the blight and suffering that takes place in the world depicted on screen. Though "The Wire" features fictional characters, one can't help but get the feeling there is some real life truth in the circumstances.

The other thing that has moved me as I've watched the people become further consumed by a life of drugs and violence is the hopelessness of the residents. Not just those that call the projects home but the police that patrol the streets. The show offers no easy answers as you watch generations of young people consumed by a dark, hopeless and violent world.

You can't help but wonder if all the time, money and effort we spend fighting wars and bringing hope to those overseas couldn't be used to better the lives of those suffering in our own urban ghettos. It feels like a massive problem — so big in fact you don't even know how one would begin to go about tackling it.

Two of the Best Picture nominees this year tackled similar ideas. Though the films had dramatically different styles, the message was the same — you can't solve the whole problem, but if you reach out in love you can make a difference.

The most gritty nominated film I saw this year was "Precious." It was a gut-wrenching tale of a girl who had been beaten down and abused by those who should have loved her the most. At 16, with two children, almost no education and no healthy family support structure, the title character, Precious Jones, could have easily become lost. In fact, she didn't even really know what love was. In the most haunting scene in the film, Precious is nearing the point of giving up when her teacher, Miss Rain, offers her compassion she's never received at any other point in her life.

Precious says, "“Don’t lie to me. Love raped me, love beat me, call me an animal, get me sick and make me feel worthless.”

Rain responds, “That wasn’t love. Your baby loves you. I love you.” That reassurance is enough to help Precious overcome her doubts and misery. Her children give her purpose and the drive to continue to overcome her situation and achieve.

Another film that deals with reaching out to the lost is "The Blind Side." Though much more of a family film, it treads on much the same territory. Michael Oher was a kid that grew up in the roughest part of Memphis. Though he had talent and the will to achieve great things, he didn't have much opportunity given his background and social status.

But Oher caught a break — two actually. First, he was admitted to Briarcrest Christian School. And it was through that placement that he met the Tuohy family. The Tuohys took Oher in and gave him the loving family support he'd never had. The result is an almost fairy-tale-like story of a man who graduated high school, went to a major university and was drafted by the NFL.

We like stories like "The Blind Side" because they remind us that anything is possible. I know I was inspired and moved when I first saw Oher's story on ESPN, and I liked the movie, too. But as I've thought about it, I can't help but wonder how many other Michael Oher's out there are never given a chance.