THE BLOOD AND THE RUNNING SHOES

It was a bright, hot and sunny day. The cement truck went through the red light and hit the stationwagon dead centre, knocking groceries all over the ground for a hundred feet. After the dust had settled all I could remember seeing was the dazed and frantic father wandering around with blood pouring from his head, a distraught and hysterical mother who had run from her home to see what all the commotion was about, and, lastly the body of a very small boy, running shoes sticking out from one end of the blanket and a pool of blood at the other end.

The father had just picked up his son from a hockey game, and was hit by the speeding cement truck in front of their home.

Two things occurred to me as I stood there watching the police and firemen grimly picking up the pieces. One was the dramatic swiftness with which death can come, and the other is the terrible grief and heartbreak left behind with the living, the survivors. It made my problems and cares very small and insignificant in the of the enormity of the tragedy.

All too often we drift through life, wandering aimlessly, doping ourselves with alcohol or drugs, hoping to relieve some of the pain or anxiety which life brings us. Instead we should be using all our resources to build a responsible and constructive life for both ourselves and those around us.

Today, now, this minute, is the most important time in our lives. Yesterday is just history, tomorrow we may just be like that small boy - a memory.

We must learn to control our emotions, use more discipline with regard to our wants and desires for a soft and easy life. Some of us may attain it, but is is worthless and empty, for we, as human beings must have a sense of accomplishment, a sense of being needed, as sense of worth, to be happy. I have yet to see a man who lacks these qualities, happy.

I hope that I am never faced with the heartache and tragedy that befell that family, however should this happen, I hope I would have the courage and dignity to face it without retreating into the bottle for solace and comfort.

This is what life is all about - laughter, pleasure, happiness, pain, suffering, and sometimes tragedy.

God grant me the serenity and dignity to accept the things I cannot change.

DON FELSTEAD

DON says: The foregoing event happened in September of 1971, I had been sober since May, 1969, still fighting my demons. This was a pivotal time for me. I had learned to face life and my experiences with calm and serenity instead of retreating to the bottle for refuge. It was another milestone towards my calm and stability.