Windsor residents show the Holiday Spirit in action

We’ve all had those short periods in our lives when everything
seems to be going the wrong way. Well, every now and then one of
those periods is punctuated by such tragedy and sorrow that
everything gets magnified and you start to wonder. You wonder about
the very core beliefs that you have always held as truth. You find
yourself trying to hold on and not give in to the feelings that you
pray will pass but you can’t imagine how or when.
Well, I recently had one of those periods and I feel compelled
to tell this story.
It was late December, just before the start of the New Year. In
fact, I can track it back to exactly New Years Eve 2007. That’s
when I first got the sense that bad things were about to happen. I
had been driving south on Windsor River Road two weeks earlier.
A car that was stopped in the northbound lane, waiting to turn
left, was suddenly rear ended as I was approaching from the
opposite direction. The car was instantaneously pushed into my lane
T-Boning my car and totaling it out. No one was seriously hurt but
it shook me up pretty good. On top of that my ex-wife, to whom I
had been married for 31 years and the mother of our children, had
just gone in for lung cancer surgery and given our two daughters a
worrisome Christmas. My new wife and I had visited with her only
minutes before she was to go into surgery. The whole family was
there of course as is our custom whenever family is in trouble. She
did not appear frightened but was somewhat solace. She even
attempted to joke about how she had for years said, “I’m going to
die of cancer anyway why should I quit now”. She did this over the
years whenever I got tough about her need to quit smoking.
I told her that it wasn’t funny then and that it certainly
wasn’t funny now. She just smiled knowingly at me and then turned
to my wife and said very seriously, “take care of my girls”. We
then both said “you’re going to be just fine” and with that we left
the room for her to have time to spend with her daughters and Nick,
her new husband. We gave as much support as we could to our
daughters and her husband Nick. We had learned to get along pretty
well after the divorce. Something it took the kids a while to
figure out. She had come though the surgery well enough and the
doctors labeled her “cancer free” with the only remaining concern
being that she needed to make it through a predictably tough
recovery. We visited her in the hospital two days after surgery and
she looked tired but remarkably well. We left with a new found
confidence that she was going to be alright.
Days later my wife and I had been out for most of the afternoon.
We had left our pure breed puppy that we were planning to breed
years later in our safely enclosed back yard. It was New Years Eve
and we returned home to find our new puppy dog, who had just gone
into her first heat, looking tired and obviously soiled. A
neighboring male dog who had managed, after three failed attempts,
to successfully dig under our backyard fence had obviously spent
the afternoon with her. A minor event in the grander scheme of
things but it was that night that set me to wondering, what
next?
A few days later I came down with a flu bug worse then anything
I’d had in twenty plus years. It was during this time that my
ex-wife took a turn for the worse. Pneumonia had set in and after a
few days of struggle her good lung collapsed. As bad as things
looked I dared not go near her or anyone visiting her. Given my
considerable sickness I was afraid of spreading my infection.
Consequently my frightened and troubled daughters were forced to
endure their fears without the support of their father and that
weighted heavy on my heart. My ex-wife soon slipped into a coma and
the doctors had to inform the people that loved her so deeply, so
dearly, that she would never recover. The unthinkable yet
unavoidable decision to remove life support fell on her husband and
our two daughters with a reality I hope never to witness again.
The pain of watching our children struggle with a decision no
one should ever have to make shook me to my core. Then the night
came when my two tormented daughters, surrounded by loving family
and friends, said goodbye to their mother and watched her pass from
this world. I found myself going through more sorrow than I dare
speak of, while trying with all my might not to let my own feelings
cause my children any more concern or sadness. I was barely holding
on.
Suddenly there were funeral arrangements being made. A large
number of friends and relatives were coming in from out of town to
attend the rosary and funeral. It occurred to my wife and I that we
could help by letting several of them stay in our newly purchased
40-foot motor home. The problem was that the propane tank was empty
and it would be absolutely necessary for heating given the January
temperatures of late.
I took the tank to the local Chevron gas station in Windsor
where propane was sold, and filled it up. I should not have been
driving that large a vehicle given my physical and mental condition
at the time. However, these were not normal times. I filled up the
propane tank and as I was attempting to depart the station I failed
to remember the 5 foot deep drainage ditch.
A ditch that spanned the area between the two driveways entering
and exiting the station. Subsequently, and don’t ask me how, I
managed to put the entire rear axle of the motor home into the
ditch. I did this in such a way as to end up with all rear wheels
resting about four feet off the ground. I won’t attempt to explain
all the factors/failures that it took to accomplish this feat
because it is simply now too embarrassing to review. Let’s just say
they were many. Some of you passing by on that day may have seen,
and perhaps still remember, that unusual sight. You too, no doubt,
must have wondered how anyone could have managed to do such a
thing. This is really where my story begins.
After the initial shock wore off I called my wife and gave her a
second “bad driving” report in less than a month. After regaining
what little composure I had left and after managing to call for the
required “big rig” tow truck I found myself simply wandering around
being occasionally further embarrassed by people coming up asking
me, “how did you manage to do that?” or “didn’t you see the
ditch?”.
There were two young men in their early twenty’s who told my
wife that they were staying to see how they were going to get us
out, no matter how long it took. Since this happened early on a
Sunday afternoon I suspect they had little else they had to do and
thought this their best chance at reflective entertainment.
The towing company had informed me it would be approximately two
hours before a towing rig large enough could get there. People
continued to come by, shake their heads, and then walk away in
wonder. In fact, I saw several cars that had driven by make a
return trip to look for a second, then some even a third time. It
was during this waiting period that the reality of the situation
set in and I remembered how often of late I had asked myself the
questions. What next? Why me?
It was just about that time when a man, who had simply stopped
there with his wife to get gas for their leisurely afternoon drive,
came over for a closer look. However, this man seemed to have a
look more intense than simply curiosity, as was the case with the
rest of those coming for a closer look. We watched as he surveyed
the situation from many angles and I was starting to wonder about
his focused review when he turned and came over. He asked me most
directly, “What are you going to do?”
After pausing for a second I replied, “I have a tow truck on the
way”. “A tow truck can’t help you.” he said. I told him, “No, it’s
a big rig sized tow truck.” “Don’t matter, he’ll tear you up trying
to get you out of there”. The directness and confidence with which
be spoke put me aback. Waving his weathered but obviously strong
hand at me he said, “Come here, I’ll show you something.” I
followed him around to the rear of the coach. He calmly and
knowingly explained the logic and problems facing anyone attempting
to use a cable or blade-lift to get me out. I typically have a
fairly good grasp of both reality and physics. Everything he told
me made sense.
We walked back around to the passenger side of the coach for
further discussion. Actually, he started walking and I found myself
following. I am a fairly independent minded man but this fellow had
something about him that made me follow. We both paused quietly for
a moment, reflecting on everything. He spoke again breaking the
silence. “I didn’t want to work today but you’re in a real spot
here. There are maybe two guys in this whole county who have the
knowledge and equipment to get you out”, he said matter of factly,
“and I’m one of them!”
“A tow truck will end up causing thousands of dollars in damage
to your rig. Let me go talk to the wife and see what she says”, and
with that he started walking away. I looked into my wife’s eyes
with a little confusion that expressed considerable hesitation. We
both spoke up almost in unisons saying, “We couldn’t ask you to do
that”. He paused for just a second then said, “Nah!” in a kind but
gruff voice.
“If she is okay with it we can have you out of there with no
damage in three or four hours.” With that he continued to walk over
towards his car that he had left parked at the pumps where his wife
stood waiting patiently for him to return. Once he was far enough
away so as not to overhear our discussion my wife and I immediately
had a quick conference wondering what we should do.
“We can’t do this, what if he doesn’t really know what he is
talking about?” she said. I agreed completely. We looked at each
other as though we both understood something was happening here
that we needed to put a stop to immediately. Yet, something bigger
was telling us to trust him. I, to this day, can not explain why we
felt the way we did at that moment.
There was something more then just the absolute confidence that
this man exuded that left us feeling secure in his presence,
something that supersedes logic and good sense.
As he returned to where my wife and I were standing he said,
“We’ll need to make a run up the hill to my place to get my truck.
I’ll also need to change into some work clothes and load up the
equipment that we’re going to need”.
While I looked into his confident but unemotional eyes he said,
“I’m Wes”. “Oh, I’m Bill”, I said in a knee jerk response, “and
this is my wife Cathy”.
Bill’s story will continue in the Jan. 3 issue of The Windsor
Times, available next week.