Sixteen years ago this weekend my best friend at the time, Stuart Rodgers, was killed. A drunk driver ran a red light and t-boned his family's car. Four were in the car that was struck, two died, one had a broken neck. The drunk driver was essentially unscathed and barely got jail time. He carelessly took two lives and I don't think he got much more than two years, if that.
I dare say that Stuart's death was the defining moment of my class's childhood/early adolescence. At our ten year high school reunion his death was still a topic of conversation. I've never driven intoxicated, nor have I allowed any of my friends to do so if I was around or if they called me. I remember walking home from school that day. Normally I took the bus, but I couldn't even read the numbers on the side of them or tell what time it was to know to go stand there. As I walked by a couple of his friends houses, I remember hearing their cries and sobs through their windows two to three hundred feet away. My homeroom teacher that year, Mr. Love, was a gentle giant. A huge man...over 6 feet, 300 plus pounds, with hands as strong as anything and a voice that would make you soil your shorts. We'd seen him angry but behind his anger there was always concern for our benefit. The day they told us, though, we saw him truly distraught for the first time.
As a class, as a school, as a family...we were broken.
What was neat, though, is that he was coming home from a SoCal vacation. Before he died, he and his family enjoyed themselves and that's how I try to remember him. Happy and smiling, just as he mad so many others smile and be happy.
May all of you have a happy and smiling weekend, too! Drive safely. Hug your loved ones. Come back on Tuesday refreshed and ready for summer baseball!
Take care, everyone!
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It's kind of crazy, but I have never thought of Memorial Day as a holiday because of what happened. It's so hard not to "what-if" the situation too. He was so amazing!
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