I have idealized Cherry Valley to the point that I have written a song and story that I have performed in several venues over the years. It always has been a glorious place for me — a great place to raise a family, a place to grow old and in love.

But the last several months have made me aware of a much darker side of the borough and surrounding area that I call home. Twice in the past few months, Cherry Valley has graced the upper half of the front page of the Butler Eagle because of violent crimes allegedly perpetrated by gun-toting residents of the borough, my neighbors.

Three times in the last several months, people I knew, or knew about, have died senselessly at the hands of people I knew, or knew about.

My own family has even been touched by violence. I am left with a profound sense of sadness when I think about how my community has changed, if not in fact then in my eyes.

Every once in a while, I look down and I expect to see the blood of Esther Borchert on my hands. I imagine that there might be a few other people in Cherry Valley who might feel the same way.

Even though none of us pulled the trigger that ended her life, many of us were aware of a dark side of her husband, Jimmy.

Jimmy and Esther always were good neighbors to us. We bought eggs from them, and when we needed mulch hay, Jimmy and Esther brought us a big round bale and didn't charge us.

One of the first interactions I ever had with Jimmy was shortly after we moved to Cherry Valley and I was trying to tame an overgrown and badly neglected "lawn" with one of those "tractors" you buy at a department store.

Jimmy told me that I was trying to do too much with that machine. Of course, he was right; several burned belts convinced me that I needed to tame the wilderness in another way.

Then, when we were building our house, Jimmy let us borrow a tractor with a cement mixer attachment; he also lent us his bobcat.

Again, no charge — something you do for a neighbor.

I can remember several neighborly conversations with Jimmy; he seemed to know everything that was going on in the borough. I can recall several times when he shared his joy in the life of a newborn lamb or the spunkiness of a young calf.

He was a hardworking man.

I can remember him telling me that one of the reasons he married Esther was because she was so smart.

Esther was just as hardworking and just as neighborly as Jimmy. It was commonplace to see the two of them riding around on tractors — the two of them working together in a field, putting in long, hard hours.

But there also was that dark side.

Several years ago, Jimmy called me and told me that if I didn't get a local man off the road above his house, he was going to kill him the same way he killed the stray dogs that crossed his fields.

Another time, after a business deal gone bad, Jimmy told me that if another neighbor set foot on his place again, he'd cut him up and put him in his outdoor furnace like cordwood.

I just figured it was the way that Jimmy talked. I never imagined that he would act on his words.

Both threats were issued so matter-of-factly, so calmly. It was unnerving, even though I didn't think he meant what he said.

I was chilled by the way he expressed his anger then and am even more chilled now in light of the double murder he admits that he committed.

The Butler Eagle reports that neighbors said that Jimmy was abusive toward Esther; I recently heard those rumors too.

The Eagle also pointed out that no reports ever were filed with the police. I never internalized how that situation could come to pass until some punk from West Sunbury tried to "persuade" my daughter to see things his way by violently grabbing her hair.

Perhaps Esther was too afraid to report the abuse. Maybe there wasn't abuse. Who knows?

What I do know is that I heard Jimmy's threats and, aside from telling the intended victims, did nothing. It never really occurred to me that Jimmy would act on his words.

What the events of the past several days have taught me is that we cannot, must not, ignore threats, idle or not.

How much is a human life worth? Apparently not much in northern Butler County.

I have heard that some are saying that Esther is as responsible for her own death as Jimmy, because of what she did and said prior to the murder. Apparently Jimmy believes that too because he reportedly told the police that they laughed in his face.

So he got the gun.

The only reason that it is worth responding to is because it is so trifling.

Is telling someone that you intend to seek a divorce a capital crime? Is a farm worth a human life?

Even if she laughed in Jimmy's face, should she have been killed? I don't think any rational person would think so.

Certainly, 14-month-old Tyler Davis did nothing to earn his brutal death. Does finding out you're not the father of a toddler boy in your care, as has been alleged, somehow give you the right to bounce his head off a wall?

I don't have anything against guns. I know many people who own them and use them responsibly.

However, it appears that we've got our priorities all mixed up.

One of my neighbors, someone who also has been a very good neighbor to us, speaking to a TV reporter, said, "Sure, everyone's armed up in these parts . . . you got to protect not only your livestock but also your family from all the predators, no matter how many legs they have."

We are not all armed up here and, unfortunately, the only "family" members who have been injured or killed in Cherry Valley lately have been the victims of human predators carrying guns.

Life, it appears, is cheap — as cheap as a few words, as cheap as a pile of scrap metal.

The state police are saying that Jimmy has no regrets about the double murder that he committed. Somehow I find that hard to reconcile with the man that I had come to know.

Someday, I think, that Jimmy, who devoted his life to farming, which is all about nurturing life, will come to realize that what he did was a senseless and selfish act. I think that he will regret what he did, if, for nothing else, because he will never again, as he said, return to the farm that he loves.

I hope and pray that Jimmy, who sent two to "meet their maker," will come to regret what he did so that he, too, can meet his maker.

We have suffered a grievous loss. Esther was a fine woman, a bright woman, a hardworking woman. She was generous with her time and with her timid smile. She will surely be missed.

I didn't know the other victim but he didn't deserve to die, either.

We also have lost Jimmy. Some may say good riddance but, as I said, he always was good to us.

He did a horrible, senseless, brutal, selfish, thoughtless thing. It appears I really didn't know him but I can't discount the other Jimmy — the hardworking, generous, bright, shy and, as we found out too late, troubled neighbor.

Jimmy failed us by acting so impulsively but we also failed Jimmy and Esther and the other victim by our inaction. Perhaps if we, those of us who knew of his violent threats and abuse, had reported his actions to the police or somehow let Jimmy know that what he was saying was inappropriate, we would not now be mourning our losses.

We cannot afford this sort of inaction again.

As Jack Buzard so ably said at Esther's funeral service, we have to forgive Jimmy for what he did but it will be hard to forget it because of the terrible scar that has been left in its wake — a scar that has robbed us of two neighbors and a visitor to our community.

Michael Bagdes-Canning has been a resident of Cherry Valley since 1983.