it could have been...

It was just after 10 PM on Friday night. The home phone rang.

Dylan was calling from the band bus to say they had just left the opponent's school. About twenty minutes later, I hopped in the car to run to the school to pick up my son.

Just down the street, I pulled over as a volunteer fireman exited his driveway, sirens and lights running. A few more blocks, I again pulled over to allow another volunteer to pass. Approaching the fire station, an ambulance was waiting as rescue workers hopped aboard. Once again, I pulled over, anticipating that it was pulling into the street. My first thought, "I hope it's not the band bus." I was relieved when the ambulance headed in a direction opposite of the away football opponent.

Arriving at the school, I continued to hear sirens in the air of my small town, as emergency vehicles were dispatched and a second wave of volunteers made their way toward the station to be dispatched, as well. I remember thinking, "must be something serious."

I didn't really think anything more about it until I happened to catch the news the following evening, when I learned that those rescue workers were responding to a double fatality head-on crash just outside of town. A married couple in their thirties were heading away from town and another driver (unconfirmed to be driving while intoxicated) was heading toward town at a high rate of speed. At the crest of a small knoll, the road turned...

His Cadillac didn't.

The couple he hit didn't live to see past the curve. He walked away.

I didn't know the couple, though they were from my small town. I'm told they had a son... now an orphan.

I am surprised by the fact that I can't stop thinking about this crash. Perhaps it is because, living in a small town, they were essentially my neighbor. Perhaps it is because I am a Dad and my heart aches for their young son. I'm sure both are a factor.

But, I think the bigger reason is that it is just another reminder of my own mortality. You see, I know this road very well. I know the very spot where this couple died. It is a direct line between my home and my parent's home. My family and my parents travel it frequently. I hate that spot in the road. It's a blind curve at the top of a small knoll. It's not a bad road. But, it's just blind enough that you never know what will come at you as you approach the knoll/curve combination. This couple had no idea that a speeding Cadillac was about to careen over the knoll and instantly take their lives.

But, it did.

And... it could have been me.

Would I be ready?

There are two kinds of readiness... the here and the hereafter.

I've settled the hereafter, realizing many years ago that I was not worthy of heaven by my own merit, and accepting Jesus Christ as my soul's Redeemer. (More on that here, if you're not sure you have settled the hereafter.)

But, what about the here? How would I be remembered if it were me in that other car? Would the five people with whom I share a roof, a table, and a last name know what they mean to me? Would they know that they are my world?

It's easy to tell them with words, but actions speak louder.

Recently turning forty (not really as recently as it feels like it should be) and becoming a regular blogger has brought about a reflective time in my life. I was surprised to find that I didn't always like what I saw in my reflection.

I can be hard. I can be inflexible. I can be stingy. I can be strict. I can hurt those I love. But...

I can change.

I have been working on that. Working very sincerely on it, in fact. It's not easy to change forty years of personality traits, but I want my actions to match the words I've told them. I want them to see and feel that I love them, not just hear it.

Nope... not sure I'm ready... but I'm working on it.

Neither of us are guaranteed to see past the curve. But, how about you... would you be ready? After all, it could have been...

You.

more school days

One day they're toddling around the house, then suddenly, you wake up and your son's shoe size is only a half-size less than your own!  Man, how does it happen so quickly?  But, happen it does...

The end of August meant back-to-school x 4 in our household, and it is looking like a good year, so far.  Here's an update on our crew as they head back...

Dylan 7th grade

Does he look mature in his uniform, or what?

Dylan is going into his third year of percussion with the school band and he is SO excited!  Our school system's marching band is comprised of grades 7-12, so he is now a part of the official Drum Line, playing Friday night football games and a few band shows this fall.  Although he hates to dress up, he doesn't complain about donning his school's orange and black, and (I'm a little biased), but doesn't he look good in uniform?  He is one of four cymbal players and he is already dreaming of advancing (by audition) through snare and finally to quad.  (Currently, our school has only one quad, so it is a coveted honor).  He is very proud of his position on the drum line and he told me the other day, "band is like a family, but drum line is the tightest-knit group... even the high schoolers treat me good and teach me stuff."  Remember that, Dylan, when you're an upper classman and some skinny seventh grader dons the orange and black for the first time! 

Academically, Dylan tested out of 7th grade math and is advanced to 8th grade math, so he should have a challenging year ahead of him.

Zachary 5th grade

Zachary is our family fashionista.  He's always concerned with coordinating, matching and image.  He thinks the skater look is cool and he begged and pleaded for a pair of skinny jeans.  I'm not big on the look, but Jen gave in and bought him one pair.  He couldn't wait for the first day of school... but it was all about the outfit! 

Zachary has been debating his 5th grade decision for a few years, vacillating between choir or band (or nothing... extra study time).  Seeing his brother's enthusiasm about marching band during the August month-long marching band camp (perfect timing), his decision was sealed... band it is.  Thinking it would be fun for the two brothers to eventually be in drum line together (and being concerned about his asthma flare-ups), I suggested percussion.  Seemed like a logical choice.  Choosing his own path, however, Zachary decided he was born to be a horn blower, joining the brass section as a first-year trumpeter.

And so the search for a trumpet ensued... rent or buy, new or used?  Just beginning the search, I ran into a friend at last Friday night's high school football game (yes, I endured watching the guys in helmets open and close for the main event half-time marching band show!) and he told me, "Don't buy a trumpet...".  Today he showed up and blessed my son with a trumpet.  He had been a band member in high school, playing the trombone.  He shared with us that a while back he decided he was going to learn to play the trumpet and he searched over six months for just the right used trumpet.  Finally finding the right one at the right price, he bought one that, according to serial number research, was manufactured in 1955.  At 57 years old, it is still in nearly mint condition.  He told us it has just sat there and he realistically will never learn it, so he passed it to Zachary to make use of it.  Wow!  Thank you, Mr. B... what a blessing!  It is a beautiful two-tone finished horn and Zachary is in love!  The case looks 57 years old, and Zachary loves the retro look.  He's really pumped that his horn is more distinctive than any other in the band.  He says he can't wait to show it off at band tomorrow and I quote... "ya jelly, bro?"  (translation:  "are you jealous?").

Lily 2nd grade

Lily is excited about 2nd grade and she is already asking if she can join band... that's still three years away, but she doesn't want her bothers to get ahead of her.  She has been asking me which instruments would be best for playing with one hand.  It just so happens, there is a high school trumpeter in our school's band who plays with only his left hand. 

Benny preschool

Benny is back to all day (M-F) county preschool, where he gets speech, physical, and occupational therapies.  He is in the same class with the same teachers as last year, so the transition back to school was pretty smooth for him.  He experienced a little Mommy separation anxiety the first few days, but not too bad.