siren

In early December of 1971, my grandmother died. I was away at college, but my parents made arrangements for me to fly home and drive with them to the funeral. I felt a great uneasiness about the trip but supposed it was because I was flying stand-by, so when I got on the plane the uneasiness subsided.

It was a very long trip to the funeral, and about half-way there, in Cortez, Colorado, we hit black ice on the highway, spun and rolled, landing in a ditch. Fortunately, other travelers saw it happen and stopped to help. I had always thought that the sound of an ambulance would be the most horrible sound to hear if you knew it was coming for you, but it turned out to be the most beautiful sound to us, letting us know that help was on the way. Each of us suffered only minor injuries. I needed stitches on my right temple where I went through a window and I banged my right leg up pretty bad (I was on crutches for a week or two, and still I have no feeling on part of my knee).

We spent the night there in Cortez with relatives of a friend, and another friend brought his car up to us so we could continue our journey. It was a sobering reminder of the fragile nature of life, but also the kindness and generosity of others. I’ve decided that the purpose of the ambulance siren isn’t just to get traffic to move out of the way, it is more importantly a call to the injured, saying, “Hang on, we are coming!”