On Friday, I received a copy of my local paper. I showed it off, laughing with my coworkers when we realized that apparently, there's a higher fine for underage drinking than shooting a gun across a highway. And we can rent a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom house with a hot tub there for what we pay for a closet in NY. God bless Wisconsin.
I showed my friends a picture of my friend Pete and his band, who were playing a local bar two weekends ago, and told them how I had a huge crush on him, and how that led to me finding him about a year ago and that we're finally friends.
But in contrast, yesterday I got two emails from my friend Holly, who I grew up with. Her first email said "obituary" in the subject line and the second was a reply to the forward I sent her. So I opened up the first email--and discovered that one of my favorite teachers in school was dead--the teacher who just happened to be Pete's dad. But the second email shocked me. It said plainly, "I'll respond to this when I have time. Mr. C killed himself on Saturday."
Apparently, Mr. C (as we called him) had been diagonsed with Parkinsons a few months ago. When I talked to Poofy last night, he had already known the news about Mr. C for a few days through our friend Mindy, who apparently had friends who were working at the hospital when Mr. C's family brought him in. (This is how small town gossip works.) Apparently, Mr. C shot himself with a rifle.
As someone who attempted suicide in adolescence and lived to be grateful that 20 Advil pills will not require a stomach pump, much less a funeral, I don't know what led Mr. C to do what he did, but I imagine a life of being mentally fine but physically unable to control my body might lead a lot of people to the same decision.
Mr. C was the type of high school teacher who was close to retirement and basically taught about life in class, not about journalism or literature. He'd talk about the beauty of the world, sunsets in particular. He'd tell us about Vietnam, about raising kids, about what we didn't know yet and what most of the students didn't appreciate or even listen to. His words helped me through college, and when I see a sunset this week, I'll think of him.
Mind you, I didn't know Mr. C all that well--I only had him for one class, after all--but what Poof said last night rang true: It just proves that any given day is not an ordinary day.
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4 comments:
I'm so sorry about the bad news:-( A friend of mine from grad school had to suffer through the loss of her father. He shot himself b/c he had advanced Diabetes and, as an MD, knew how bad it could get. I guess his answer was to pass on the suffering to his wife and children, by shooting himself in their backyard while she was home from school for a vacation.
There's a line b/t letting someone go who is in truely advanced illness and totally in pain, and those who don't even let their loved ones have those last years with them b/c of the pain they know they might suffer later.
That is so sad about that man. There are amazing treatments out there now, a lot of hope, he gave up too early.
RM just told me you texted on Sat night? It was a crazy night! My phone is fixed now...well, not so much fixed as replaced (sigh) so you should text your phone number and I'll give you a call this weekend, we have to meet up! It's been too crazy! :-)
Oh, Meg. All I had to read was the first line to remind you that, yes, dear, you ARE, indeed, from the Midwest (and yes, Wisconsin). Don't you ever forget it...or pretend that you're "above it."
Genial post and this enter helped me alot in my college assignement. Thank you as your information.
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