THE INTERSECTION OF LIFE AND DEATH
Fall is my favorite time of year, although it does seem to happen a little later here in the Southwest desert. I’ve shared with readers in the past how the smell of burning wood in fireplaces pulls this aging body back in time to when I was a kid.
The first smell of the wood burning in the cooling damp dusk air brings the reminiscing of my teenage years. A year has never gone by since that one so many years ago and I don’t think about that black cat and Joe.
Walking home barefooted after football practice, enjoying the cool feel of the concrete that could have been used to cook an egg just a month before, I heard it. Faintly, from where I didn’t know. I thought maybe I was hearing things, but then I heard it again.
I stopped dead still trying to hear what I thought I heard. Sure enough, I heard it again. This time, it was unmistakable. A cat. In fact, what sounded like a kitten. I squatted straight down in the middle of the sidewalk to peer under some bushes. Sure enough, there he was, a little black kitten scared and obviously lost, 30 feet from one of the busiest and dangerous streets in that area of the city.
I called the little guy, “Heeeeer-kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty”! – “Mkq-mkq-mkq-mkq”! He hesitated before wandering over to me in a cautious zig-zag pattern. I petted his head, scratched behind his little ears for a minute, then kept on walking home.
The little black furry cat began to follow me, which at first I thought was a good idea to get him away from that busy road, the intersection of life and death, where he most certainly would have died. As I got about an eighth of a mile down the road where I would normally cross the street diagonally when no cars were coming, I noticed the little fella was still following me. Actually trotting to keep up.
I picked the little guy up and put him under some nearby bushes for protection. Once I took off again my little black shadow was once again in tow. When I realized he was going home with me whether I wanted him to or not, I picked him up and carried the little fur ball.
I talked to him all the way home, “You little pest”! – “You have any idea how mad my dad’s gonna be”? – “You don’t think I get in enough trouble without you showing up needing a home”? He didn’t answer me… He just purred…
We continued our one-way conversation, “You might be in luck little guy”! – “Once my mom sees you – your worries might be over”! – “That is if Bugs doesn’t get hold of you first”! (Our 25 pound half crazed tomcat).
I played football with Joe our freshman year and had a few classes with him. He was short and stocky, built like a little tank. We talked and were friendly, but were never close friends. Joe didn’t play football after freshman year, but we lived in the same neighborhood and saw each other daily walking to school together.
A year or two after I brought home our newest edition to the family, they widened that busy street where I picked up that little black fluff ball, who did garner me a bit of grief from my dad, but not enough to not keep the little guy.
It was right at that same spot I had saved Furrball’s life I spotted it. I’d heard the sounds of squealing tires on pavement in front of me, but that’s not unusual in the city. As I got beside those old familiar bushes, I saw Mark, another kid from our neighborhood.
Mark was dragging himself and his busted up legs across the new pavement with his arms toward where I was by the bushes. I spotted his cowboy hat still in the middle of the new road.
Then I spotted Joe… He wasn’t moving… He was lying in the middle of the street, blood pooling from under his head.
I’ll never forget the look on the face of the driver of that cobalt blue, 72′ Dodge Demon, as he was getting out of his car walking like he was barefooted on glass over to where Joe was lying…
It’s that time of year again, I can smell the wood burning fireplaces… Man, this air sure feels good.
I remember the spot I found Furrball and the last time I ever saw Joe…
I usually crossed that crosswalk in step with Mark and Joe. I can’t remember why I was a little late that day…
Fall is my favorite time of year…
Sherri/Herald
Tuesday, October 11, 2011 @ 10:34 pm
Glad you didn’t get hit by the car. Witnessing that, at a young age… to one of your fellow classmates/neighbor must have been a shock. Geez. :/
Floyd
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 7:03 am
Sometimes I think it’s easier to witness or endure things at a young age than it is an older age. I think of his parents… Their lives are still devastated all these years later…
CRaig Rinaldi
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 9:44 am
Thanks for sharing Floyd. I couldnt imagine being in his parents shoes and just like you said, I am sure they are still grieving for there loss to this day. God has a funny way of leading each of our lives!!!
Floyd
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 11:30 am
Thanks Craig, that’s the truth. When we understand He is leading our lives is when we begin to gain peace. I’m grateful for the mercy He has provided.
Lisa notes...
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 11:27 am
What a touching story, Floyd. Witnessing things like that make a deep impression. Yes, I imagine the parents do continue to struggle; such a huge loss.
Fall. Not my favorite season, but there are definitely great things in it.
Floyd
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 11:34 am
Thank Lisa, I can’t fathom the loss.
I’m surprised that a melancholy person like you isn’t drawn to Fall… It makes me consider the changes in my life and a year, the passing of another season or chapter. Don’t get me wrong, I like all of the seasons, it just fall that makes me ponder.
Hazel
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 5:41 pm
That street was the source of danger. No wonder the city widened it. Still you saved your small kitten, but the street took the life of your friend Joe. I am glad Mark could at least reach out and recover. The smell of smoke can trigger lots of memories. Some good and some not so good. God is Good All The Time!
Floyd
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 6:58 pm
Amen Hazel! That He is! Interesting how with time the good and the bad mix together and give us something else entirely, maybe it’s called wisdom. Of all people, you would be the one to know. Thanks Hazel.
Lisa Galati
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 5:46 pm
Floyd,
Your story makes me remember how really really fragile life is. Each day is truly a gift to be appreciated. Think of you all often! Love, Lisa
Floyd
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 7:00 pm
Thanks Lees. I guess we all need a reminder of that… Each day is truly a gift… We think and talk about you guys often as well. Look forward to seeing you guys one of these days. Love you too.
Effie-Alean Gross
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 @ 9:39 pm
Floyd,
Sometimes there’s no accounting for what brings back a memory. I love Fall here in Arizona, because we get a little relief from the extreme heat. In a sprititual sense, Fall is that time of year when we prepare for the last season of life. Some people don’t take advantage of whatever season of life that they’re in and a mishap catches them off-guard. We should always be ready, though. Winter may never come. Thanks for sharing an emotionally difficult story. Someday I’ll tell you my “cat tales.”
Floyd
Thursday, October 13, 2011 @ 8:37 am
Thanks Effie, I’m with you on the sensing of Fall to our life’s timeline. It dawned on me after hearing from others around the country, the reason Fall has a different perspective is the mild winters we get to live through.
We do need to be on guard, looking for the danger that comes out of nowhere just like that car that hit Joe. There is a spiritual tsunami looking to destroy our souls…
I’ll be looking forward to hearing or reading those “cat tales.”
Bt
Thursday, October 13, 2011 @ 6:14 am
As Yogi Bera said, “when you come to a fork in the road, take it”. There are many intersections in one’s life and each turn brings a new experience that I believe God has an interest in; curious how we deal with it. Smells, sounds, visuals all of our senses bring back memories of our past. None of us know when God will call us home or why, a very good reason to smell the wood burning, feel the cool air, help little fur balls and enjoy each day like it’s important, because it may be! Bt
Floyd
Thursday, October 13, 2011 @ 8:41 am
Well said BT. Each day is important and is truly a gift. I always enjoy the way you can summarize and bring the subject to an exclamation point. Thanks!
Helen
Thursday, October 13, 2011 @ 10:48 am
How sad for Joe’s family, and the driver.
I almost hit a bicyclist last night. I stopped at the stop sign, looked both ways, and didn’t see anyone! Then, right in front of me as I’m slowly moving, a bicyclist in dark clothing appears in my headlights! I slammed on the brakes, and shook! The kid kept going and never stopped or looked back. He seemed completely oblivious to me. I’m not trying to blame your friends. I’m trying to say I was really upset at that close call, and keep playing it over in my head what I could have done differently, when as far as I know, the kid is unaware that he narrowly escaped my bumper! I can imagine that the driver of that car hasn’t known a night’s peace in years…
My parents used to take me to the forest preserve to collect pretty colored leaves when I was a child. I love autumn!
Floyd
Thursday, October 13, 2011 @ 2:28 pm
How scary! I’ve done that too, looking for bikes and pedestrians and almost hit them… I’ve also pulled out in front of cars I just didn’t see. Your right, if the kids would have been looking for someone who might not have seen them it could have been a very different story. Some of us don’t get to learn lessons the hard way. Thanks Helen.
Jason Stasyszen
Thursday, October 13, 2011 @ 10:54 am
Sure leaves a lot of questions, doesn’t it? Glad God is not afraid of the questions and invites us into peace. If not, this life would be oppressively unbearable indeed. Thanks Floyd.
Floyd
Thursday, October 13, 2011 @ 2:30 pm
Thank you Jason, well said, “oppressively unbearable indeed.” I’m not sure how the lost cope with a life without the Truth?
Jennifer
Thursday, October 13, 2011 @ 12:31 pm
Wow, Floyd. What a story! Those poor parents, poor boys, poor driver…I can’t imagine.
I, too, love fall. The smells make me think of high school fun and college football with my husband, and I’m always ready for relief from this Georgia heat. Yet, at the same time, fall can leave me a little depressed.
Floyd
Thursday, October 13, 2011 @ 2:33 pm
I hear you Jennifer, Fall does bring on reflection. For me usually in the realization of another year closing. I think many of us who write have to reflect, in that reflection can be some depression. I suspected as much of you. It’s all for the good of God’s will I think.
Pat
Tuesday, October 25, 2011 @ 1:14 pm
First of all, I love the photo! It could be used for so many things; life/death, good/evil…
Fall is also my favorite time of year.
This was a very sad story.
I was struck (as I always am, even in my own life) by the way God reminds us of things/people/events; things we thought we had forgotten suddenly reappear when we hear a song, etc.
I just read that about 267 babies are born every minute and about 108 people die every minute worldwide. (I don’t know how accurate that is…) Don’t know why this comes to me. I guess because you gave the kitten new life but Joe lost his.
“There is a time to be born and a time to die…a time to mourn and a time to dance…” Ecc. 3
Floyd
Tuesday, October 25, 2011 @ 6:42 pm
Yeah, it is sad. I tried not to add any of my own emotions into it. Just to let the facts kind of tell the story. I agree with you Pat, I’m struck every year when I smell a burning fireplace in a cooling desert air and never fail to think of Joe. Of course as you wrote, it can be a song, a word, a smell, one slight thing and away our minds go…