Recently I was in an auto accident. I’m fine and lucky to have only suffered a bruised wrist and sore hand. My Kentucky built Toyota Avalon suffered extensively and is being pieced back together like the Bride of Frankenstein. A young man driving a Chevy Silverado hit me, along my passenger side. The strange thing about the accident is that it occurred along the one lane stretch of a long freeway exit. You’re probably wondering how I could get hit on the passenger side of a one-lane road. I’m still perplexed myself. Traffic was not slowing down. I was unaware of the truck until the moment of impact. Crazy driving is probably the cause. We’ve all seen those drivers that are flying along, lane jumping, and calling it close. Have you seen drivers like that and thought, “they’re going to cause an accident somewhere?” Well, as I found out, they can and do.
I’m still a bit shaken by the experience and can’t help but ponder on the question of how close I, and my 86-year-old father-in-law, came to death or harm that afternoon. How did I keep the car on the road? What would have happen if we had been sent into the oncoming traffic of the on ramp loop that was downhill on our left? It also got me to thinking about other close calls. We’ve all had them and perhaps this will remind you of some of your own experiences.
When I was a sophomore in high school I was in a serious car accident. It happen on a Friday night, after the high school football game. My boyfriend, Roger, drove the car and the passengers in the back seat were my good friend/neighbor John and his girlfriend. It was about this time of year. The roads were wet and fall leaves covered the ground and back roads. We were taking John’s girlfriend home first and she directed Roger along an unfamiliar dark and unlit county road. He was going too fast and suddenly, from the back seat the girl yelled, “Roger there are 90 degree turns ahead.” The next thing I remember was the sound of the car skidding and hitting the fence posts that lined the road--- “bam, bam, bam, bam” and then a loud “thunk” as we were eventually stopped by the impact of a telephone pole. Then, my friend John, from the backseat yelled, “Get out it’s going to blow up.” I suppose he’d watched too many movies! Considering that the car was totaled, it was remarkable that none of us were hurt. After the police arrived and took the report, they dropped John and I off at a gas station so we could call our parents to come get us. I remember that John called my Dad who came to retrieve us on that cool wet night.
Sometimes our close calls come because we, for some reason or another, adjust our plans, only to find out later that by doing so we avoided disaster. They are situations like those who decided to take a day off and didn’t go to work at the World Trade Centers on 9/11. My next close call was of that type and oddly enough it also involved my good friend John who lived on the street behind ours in Pewee Valley. It was the spring of our senior year (1977) and my parents were planning to get tickets to the Beverly Hills Supper Club for the May 28th show featuring John Davidson, a popular singer at that time. They invited my friend John and myself, as kind of a graduation treat. We were excited. My parents had been to the Beverly Hills Supper Club (in Kentucky near Cincinnati, OH) for other events and thought we would enjoy the experience. Dinner was included and the show was more of a nightclub type experience rather than the large rock concert type venues, John and I had attended. We were disappointed when we found out that the event was sold out and we would not be going after all.
Many of you, who are from Kentucky, will remember that on that day, May 28, 1977 there was a terrible fire at the Beverly Hills Supper Club. 165 people were killed in the fire that night. The club did not have a sprinkler system, those became standard everywhere later, and there were no audible automatic fire alarms or fire stops. Much of the construction and decorative materials used in the building were not fireproof and there were too few exits for the size and capacity of the building. The early show of the evening had just begun in one of the two performance rooms. Many of the 3000 people there that night were finishing their dinners in the variety of dining rooms and bars when the fire broke out a little before 9 PM. Some remember that there was no sense of panic or rush. The supper club had many rooms and my parents remembered it as being almost maze like. Many were saved that night because a busboy ran through the building warning about the fire and pointing out exits. But, it took a while for people to find their way out. The major cause of death was smoke inhalation. My friend John’s next-door neighbors, the Fawbushs, were there that night. They were able to escape the building, but 70-year-old Bill Fawbush went back in to rescue others, resulting in his own death. It was tragic and we were lucky that fate had prevented us from being there that night. I’ve heard that many of the safety features we take for granted now are the result of regulations enacted after this terrible tragedy. So, think of the Beverly Hills victims each time you see a fire sprinkler, lighted exit sign, posted capacity sign, or fire alarm. Afterward my father always told me that the first thing I should consider when in any building, is how I would get out if there were a fire.
Perhaps these close calls are good for us. Maybe they help refresh our appreciation of life. I suppose that for a time at least they challenge us to evaluate our current life and behavior. Maybe we become a little more grateful for those around us and acknowledge them in a more determined and consciousness manner. I lost track of my friend John after we graduated. His family moved to another part of the county and so it wasn’t as easy to connect with him, as it was when we could just cut through back yards to each other’s houses. I went away to college and only came home for short holidays. Later, no one seemed to know where he was, as his parents had moved yet again. A number of years ago I was able to track down his mother in Florida and she informed me that John had died of AIDS in 1993 at the age of 34. I still regret that I’d put off my efforts to stay in touch until it was too late.
Oddly enough, about 8 months ago, I had a close call on that same stretch of freeway exit where my recent accident occurred. No accident occurred that time but I remember having a feeling of being spared great harm. So, I’m thinking that for a while, at least, I don’t need any “wake up” calls by God or fate or anything else. I’ll appreciate life and those around me even more than I normally do and perhaps make better use of my time and myself. The Gospel reading in church on Sunday was from Matthew 25 and ended with the words, “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”
-Mary
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