Inspiration...

A couple of times a year I get to the point where I feel I am about to explode, for lack of a better term... Stressed out, pulled in all directions, that sort of feeling.

 

Right now I have been working 50 hour plus weeks, haven't had a full day off in well over a month, am still busy three nights a week volunteering (coaching soccer now, and with cubs) plus taking Karate once a week, also with the Relay for Life this Friday, plus all the usual crap which just has been piling on.

 

Times like these I tend to listen to a fair bit of music, to help me calm down, relax, and focus on what really matters. Here is one:

Ascending to the Zenith

For the last couple of years, a nice young boy has gotten on the school bus with Rudi for the trip to school in Woodstock.  He is a nice little kid, perhaps seven years of age, with a nice young mom, a friendly, easygoing dad, and three little sisters. I don't often walk Rudi to the bus, but occasionally I do, and get to talk to the boy and either of his parents, just the usual friendly stuff, as I don't really know them that well.

A couple of months ago, another lady was waiting at the bus stop with the boy, and introduced herself as his grandmother. We chatted briefly, and the boy told me he had a sleepover at his grandmothers house, and really enjoyed it!

A week or so later, I again saw the boys mother, and told her that I had met the boys grandmother, and was wondering if it was her or her husband's mother. She replied that the boys grandmother actually the mother of the boys birth mother, who had passed away about five years ago...

Descending to the Nadir...

About five years ago, I was driving south from Shakespeare to Tavistock, following a tractor trailer, on a bright, clear, sunny day. Without any warning, the truck ahead began braking hard, white smoke billowing out from the back wheels as his rear set of axles locked up. I was far enough behind, but still had to stand hard on my brakes to avoid rear ending the rig. Hazards clicked on, I moved to the right shoulder and stopped my van just behind the truck.

 

I walked along the shoulder to the front of the truck, and a scene of destruction and carnage was laid out before me. Two vehicles, both light coloured, as I recall, were scattered across the roadway, crushed and twisted. Contents of one or both of the vehicles was strewn in a roughly curved path, perhaps fifty or more feet long... Clothing, a small backpack, stuffed animals, a blanket, bags and sacks, books, toys, and such, strewn about after an obviously extremely violent head on collision. I walked forward, noticing that a number of Northbound vehicles had already stopped, at the far side of the collision area.

 

A number of men were already out of their own vehicles (I think one was a utility or maintenance crew) checking on the occupants of the vehicles. I approached the vehicle closest to me, noticing a man already talking with the female driver, who was alive, yet in shock, dazed, and confused. In her car I noticed an infant in the back, secured in a child seat, now wailing at the top of his lungs. Others had arrived, and knowing there were enough to help out, and that the work crew guys had already contacted 911, I told the man at the first car I would go back up the road and close it until police arrived.

I got back to my van, turned it around, and drove quickly up to the intersection with Pork Road, just about a mile away. I stopped a few hundred feet south of the intersection, with my van parked in the middle of the road, high beams on and flashers going.  I walked to the intersection, and then began directing traffic either left or right on Pork road. Five minutes later the first OPP cruiser came by, stopped to ask if I was closing the road for the collsion, then told me to keep it closed until an officer relieved me. Two more cruisers came by, a few emergency vehicles, finallly an ambulance, and after about 20 minutes, an OPP officer returned, thanked me, and let me go on my way...

Seven Weeks to Mother's Day

This link came up on the most recent blog of the day, causing me to think although it isn't quite yet Mother's Day, it is coming up soon enough. Is seven weeks enough time for people to improve their driving attitudes? Please love your Mother's and drive responsibly.

Distracted Driving - The New Killer

Sympatico.ca Auto News re Cellphone Use

In virtuallly every jurisdiction that has attempted to reduce distracted driving through 'handheld' device bans and other similar legislation, the results are the same: Distracted driving is on the increase; collision, injury and death rates are on the rise; and device use hasn't been reduced.

Interestingly, the article points to other supposed distractions, such as drinking coffee, eating, and the like. Not one to be afraid of disagreeing with bullshit, I suggest that you, dear reader, try this experiment: First, get comfortable and watch a TV show that you really enjoy, then, while you are watching said TV show: A) call a friend and have a conversation on the telephone. B) apply make up, including foundation, eyeliner/shadow, and lipstick. C) Shave using gel and an instant razer.  D) Have a conversation with someone seated next to you. E) eat a donut. F) drink a coffee. G) listen to some music on the stereo.

While doing so, try and determinehow much of the show you are actually taking in... What you will clearly notice, is that talking on the telephone is by far the most distracting, probably followed closely by shaving or applying make up. Interestingly, having a conversation with someone seated in the room with you is probably nowhere as distracting as having a phone conversation, undoubtedly due to how different telephone and in person conversations are. Eating and drinking are probably accomplished virtually subconsciously while enjoying the show.

Now imagine you instead of watching a television show, you are driving a vehicle. There are things one can do which completely distract the driver from the task at hand (cellphone conversations, personal grooming, reading maps and newspapers) and some things which do not significantly distract the driver (talking with a passenger, eating and drinking (not at the same time), listening to the radio).

So figure out what are distractions to proper and safe driving, and eliminate them completely. Your life, and that of others, depends on it.

TAC - Pictures of You

What's a measly hundred bucks worth really?!

So here I am dealing with a few indivuduals in what I categorically define as bullshit little squabbles, really meaningless crap involving ridiculous issues that no one should really give a rat's ass about, but here they are thinking its the end of the fucking world!

In all consideration to the few individuals involved, to the best of my knowledge the have never had the benefit of watching someone get killed up close, first hand, so perhaps they have nothing to balance their unresolved issues against.

I suppose watching people die is beneficial in a way, as it puts all of the crap that for some silly reason one thinks is important into much clearer perspective: I can assure you that no matter how important you think your issue is, it really is meaningless, because no matter what happens, NO ONE IS GOING TO FUCKING DIE AS A RESULT!

Coaching As Therapy

I am the assistant coach a gang of under thirteen year old kids playing soccer. I got into coaching two years ago, for my own son's (Rudi) under seven age group team, primarily because coaches were in short supply, and Tim (the head coach of that age group) was desperate for some decent help.

This year however, Rudi decided on baseball, and Marlo (Director of Tavistock Soccer) suggested I wasn't under any obligation to help out, but I could if I chose to. I told him that I would love to, but as I had no kids involved, I wouldn't mind moving to an older age group, which is how I ended up with the group I have.

Last night we headed out to play Thorndale, knowing that a large part of our contingent was headed of to the 'JUMP' program at Wilfrid Laurier, and would not be able to play. A few minutes before the start, we had eight plus a goalie, leaving us two players short. Brad (Head Coach) didn't want to concede the game, and had a brief talk with the other coach, telling him that we would simply play shorthanded, but not to give us any quarter, essentially.

We scrambled for another player from Tavistock, and found Clayton, the younger brother of one of our own players, who happily joined us from his under 11 team. So there we were, eight of ours and a goalie, plus a player from the next age group down, still one man short. I had already been making notes of who to play in what position, and Brad asked me if I was ready to run the game... I had never done so before this game, but was up for a bit of 'trial by fire' so to speak, and began assigning positions and getting our crew on the field.

At the end of the first half Thorndale was up three to two, but in the second period we tied, and then with five minutes to go in the game Mike scored again to bring us ahead by one, four to three, which we held til the end.

There isn't much to compare with that special feeling of pride I got when my crew won the game: The smiles from them as they came off the field. They knew they did a great job, and I let them know it.

The Fallacy of the Term 'Accident'

There is really little need for the word 'accident' in common use of the english language, as by definition, an accident is something that has little chance of ever happening. Drownings, automobile collisions, aircraft and boat crashes generally have an apparant or deliberate cause, and cannot be considered accidental in nature. I rememeber being questioned by the defense attorney in a trial and recall illustrating the difference between the two:

DEFENSE: So Mr. Chiles, you indicated earlier that you had actually pressed 9-1-1 on your cell phone just moments before the accident occurred?

WITNESS: Ummm, what accident?

DEFENSE: The accident between the tan coloured SUV and the blue minivan...

WITNESS: Accident? There wasn't any accident.

DEFENSE: What do you mean there wasn't any accident? You spent the last two hours testifiying about the circumstances leading up to the accident between Mr. Doherty's minivan and my clients SUV...

WITNESS: Oh yes... Well that wasn't an accident at all, it was a collision.

"An accident is a specific, unidentifiable, unexpected, unusual and unintended external action which occurs in a particular time and place, with no apparent and deliberate cause but with marked effects." (From Wikipedia)

Don't piss me off by talking about "car accidents", because they virtually do not exist. If two cars collide, it is simply that, an automobile collision, as they virtually always have at least an apparent, if not deliberate cause.

National Day of Remembrance for Road Crash Victims

2010 National Day of Remembrance for Road Crash Victims from ccmta_ndr on Vimeo.

An Interesting Link

I don't know how I came across this site, but it is worth visiting for the brutal eye opening that awaits. It is nothing more than a compilation of links and stories about all the fatal and near fatal collisions that occur in Canada, in addition to comments posted by readers. What makes it effective is that there are dozens and dozens of items posted each week. Although the raw numbers of individuals killed every year in Canada has been on a steady decline over the last few decades, there are still roughly 5000 lives ended each year in completely avoidable collisions.

Education For The Driving Masses

Something That Inspires Me

Sometimes the psychological effects of my meetings with the cloaked traveller leave me unhappy, depressed, feeling helpless, or worthless. But I can generally fight off these symptoms fairly well, though it does get hard toward the end of a long winter. Nothing better to help me get my shit together than a sunny spring day, and a little video clip I watched initially close to a year ago. This is the one video clip of Andrew Johnston you will ever need to see, and after you see it, and the reactions of those in it, you will understand why. You will also figure out why it gives me the strength to do the right thing when I can, to try my best, and to kick the crap out of the blues i suffer. Enjoy, and see what it does for you.

Connections and Relations

It's amazing how sometimes it takes such a long, long, time to figure out why the human brain works the way it does. Earlier this evening I was giving Alexander his bath, and for some reason halfway through he started calling for something, pointing over toward the change table and towel rack, and pleading "moyne...moyne...moyne..." Unlike Rudi, who was experimenting with simple sentence construction and had a vocabulary of about two hundred words, Alexander at age 'two plus four months' is progressing a bit more slowly, and I could only figure out he was pointing at his pants (which he didn't want taken off before his bath) and was probably saying "mine...mine...mine..." He was getting exasperated a bit, as was I, as I couldn't give him back his pants when he was in the tub, and I really had no idea what he was really bleating about anyway.

In any event, the "nyownying" kept up unabated, and I called for back up, after just having barked 'STOP' at the poor little kid so loudly he shook, and stopped for three seconds before continuing his pathetic little chant. Katherine came in after my third quick yell at Alexander, but at this time my heart rate was up, I was feeling trapped, stressed, claustrophopic almost, and I needed to get away fast. "Katherine just take over ok, I can't deal with this!" was all I said before rushing out. Only about six or seven times in my life has this type of event happened, all with either Alexander (two, perhaps three times) or Rudi (three or four times maybe) getting into a pathetic little chant, continuously repeating the same word or words for a few minutes at the most, and interestingly enough, my reaction has been like this only when they are in the bath.

So I figured out exactly why I get freaked out, and its something that has me flummoxed. The chant completely mimics the sounds or words persons have made for some reason or other when I have encountered them in my 'experiences'. Examples are the tow truck driver repeating "Gotta-get-them-out...gotta-get-them-out...gotta-get-them-out" or the Chinese man pleading "Li...Li...Li...Li..." or the sobbing wail of one of the occupants of a car caught fire on the 401, mostly engulfed in flames when I pulled up, knowing my fire extinguisher at that point was completely useless.

Why did it take me six years or so to relate the two types of events, and why do I only react to their kind of bleating when they are in the tub? They can do it any other time, and I don't react at all. Strange.

Elmo, the Guardian Angel

We (Katherine, Rudi, Alex, and I) were driving to Toronto recently, and I noticed a small cross at the intersection of Walker Line and the Huron Road, not far from Tavistock. I had no recollection of a (obviously fatal) collision occuring there, so later I checked it out. The collision happened early in August, when we were probably at the cottage, which explains why I knew nothing about it.

It seems a minivan driving down Walker Road with several children and an adult driver was broadsided by a pickup truck driven by an older lady from Stratford who failed to recognize and obey the stop sign on the Huron Road. Rowan Ainsley Dunk, aged twenty months, was taken to McMaster Medical Center where she later died from injuries sustained in the collision.

A few nights ago, on my way back from a job in kitchener, I stopped at the cross, and read the inscription. I brushed a bit of dirt and mud off Elmo, sat him up properly, and took two photographs. The tears came easily as I did that, just as they are coming right now as I write this. All the usual thoughts run through my mind. Why did this have to happen, how can the families, friends, and relatives of little Rowan cope, it must be heartbreaking, what a tragic loss. I can only begin to imagine how witnessing something like that might affect someone, as fortunately, I have never witnessed the cloaked traveller walk away with a child.

http://www.lifenews.ca/waterloorecord/profile/35854--dunk-rowan-ainsley

A Conversation

What follows is a conversation I had recently with a nice young lady, a professional I deal with on the rare occasion. The conversation occurred over a month ago, and I have taken a bit of license in retelling, especially with regard to details about the accident.


"I don't say I suffer from it, but I guess I could say I am affected by Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"Oh my god, what do you do, are you a firefighter, or a cop or something?"

"Nope, I just drive, I drive, and I see people die... In car accidents - collisions actually, I just have the luck to seeing them happen a lot."

"Well, that's not really luck..."

"Luck for me perhaps, I'm still alive... But yeah, I have probably seen a dozen fatal collisions. Things that have made me turn around and puke out my guts, things that have made cops arriving do the same thing... I just happen to be there right when, I mean these things happen right in front of me... It starts to give you a different outlook on things."

"Yeah, I can imagine, like things matter differently."

"Yeah, like everythings okay when no one dies, you start to relax about everything, 'cause nothing really matters that much, what people think are problems aren't that big really."

"Wow, I kind of know how you feel."

"I had a feeling you might, what happened... What was it you saw?"

"There was... It was a guy racing a motorbike, way too fast...Lost control totally after passing us on the way to Grand Bend... Just going way, way, way to fast, couldn't make the curve, hit the shoulder, then flipped into the ditch and into a tree."

"Jesus, that's terrible... So he died"

"Yeah, and his buddies were on other bikes right behind, it was terrible. His body was completely crushed when he hit the tree, and his friends... his friends were completely freakin out, calling his name, trying to get him to respond... but the guy was dead, obviously... instantly."

"Long time ago now?"

"A couple of years now, four actually"

"You still cry? I mean, something sets you off, and you just cry"

"Yeah... Yeah I do."

"It gets a bit easier with time... but you will always find something does set you off... I was at the cottage recently, reading an article by some guy who came across a collision... Joining the club I guess! I just broke down and cried. It all comes flooding back..."

"And I get angry... I hate to say it, I just... I really..."

"You're pissed at him for doing that, for killing himself..."

"Yeah, exactly... I know it's not right, but sometimes I hate him for what he did... I mean he was married, and had two kids... Christ how can you do that? How can you be... How can you..."

"Be so completely irresponsible?"

"Yes... How can a person do that? I just can't imagine being like that"

"I don't know, I really don't"

"And even now I get angry when I see guys doing stupid things like that... I mean my husband was with me, saw the whole thing, he would never do anything like that..."

"At least he knows how it affects you, and you him... Lots of people will never understand really..."

"Yeah I got that, It's not that bad really, but still, It's there... you're right, they have no idea"

"Welcome to the club... There are no merit badges or anything though, just scars... that fade over time..."

The Emotional Tsunamis

It was on the last day of our Easter weekend at the cottage when the 'Tsunami' broke. The only way I can describe these events is like sitting near a rocky seashore on a calm day, watching the small waves roll in, crashing easily on the rough, broken shore. And without warning, I notice a mammoth wave, rising in the distance from the deep sea, like a tidal wave, or a tsunami. It is racing in at a speed tenfold that of the small waves swelling and breaking, and overtakes numbers of them as it heads toward the shore. It is now only seconds away, and starting to break, and is easily twenty times taller than all the others now. And then it crashes furiously into the rocky crags and jagged cliffs, the sound thundering and deafening, the ground shaking and rumbling beneath my feet, even from my vantage point several hundred feet away. And then the spray comes, great plumes of water soaking the upper reaches of the shoreline. And as quickly as it arrived, the water recedes back to the sea, and the quiet smooth waves continue breaking against the shore, as if nothing had happened.

I had just started reading the Weekend Living section of the Saturday edition of the Toronto Star when I noticed a cropped photograph of a Paramedic ambulance accompanying an article. The article was entitled 'Tragedy forges an unlikely bond' by Tom Scanlan, part of the Slice of Life Series. It was a simple, heartfelt account of a drivers experience as he had the fortune of happening upon a collision on the highway driving home from the cottage. I had to read it, and I also knew exactly what would happen to me if I did.

The Slideshows

I remember arriving home one day, and for some reason the slide projector in my head was clacking away, frame after frame projected against the white screen of my mind. Clic-Clack steam rising from the obliterated front end of what was a speeding Mustang just one minute ago, only barely visible on this moonlit night. Clic-Clack the crumpled body of the driver of the Mustang, now mangled in the crushed front end of the Minivan that he had just struck head on. Clic-Clack looking down the dark roadway at the darker lifeless body of what must have been the passenger in the Mustang, ejected through the windscreen like the driver, but who sailed past the minivan instead. Clic-Clack closer now to the body on the roadway, legs crumpled, torso scrunched up with shoulders inclined down as if the head were kissing the ground, but something a little funny about that. Clic-Clack closer now from the side of the body on the roadway - sweet Jesus fucking Christ - the shoulders and neck inclined into the roadway, but you cant bury your head in asphalt, where in the name of Christ is your head? Clic-Clack looking up toward the side of the darkened road, and seeing the small, round, black form sitting on the shoulder.....oh fuck, I could feel the heave in my gut, and I just started puking right there......

"David, have you heard one word of what Rudi has been saying?" It was Katherine, pissed of course.

"Oh, sorry! What was that Rudi?"

"I was asking... I was just asking if you wanted to play spies with me daddy. You can be spy number two, and I will be spy number one"

"Spies! ok little guy, lets go play spies. But why can't I be spy number one?"

Clic-Clack.........Clic-Clack........Clic-Clac.......it was muted somewhat now, but the slideshow continued relentlessly.

Guilt

On a very few occasions, especially over the last few years, it has seemed as if I could actually predict the outcome of a situation while it was in progress. The most compelling of these was the incident invovlving the two racing drivers in Kitchener, on November 30 2005.

To keep a long story short, I was in the position of being involved in the situation well before the collision that resulted in the death of an innocent driver. I was driving up Victoria Street one afternoon, when a vehicle being driven in a very agressive manner came up behind me, following far too close. I knew he was trouble. It was a two lane road in each direction, and he was behind me in the left, as it seemed to be moving faster initially. I knew the road very well, and wanted to keep this idiot behind me until the road widened past the expressway, so as I watched the traffic flow ahead, I noticed that the driver in our lane ahead was losing a bit of speed, so I thought I would make the change to the right lane, now moving a bit faster. Too late though, because just as I decided to make the change and signal right, the guy behind me in the SUV had jumped in and nosed his way forward. Sixty seconds later an innocent man, Mike Doherty, was fatally injured.

What gets me is that I had identified a potential issue, and decided to do something to prevent it from becoming worse, but unfortunately I acted too late. Had I acted on my instinct and experience one second earlier, Mike Doherty would be alive. One time I mentioned this to Katherine who replied that I couldn't have done anything about it. Well in this particular case I could have, but decided to late, and someone died as a result. That is something I get to live with, that directly or indirectly, I failed to prevent someone from dying. Perhaps someday you will be in a situation like that, or know someone who is. Guilt will be a strong emotional response. Don't try to invalidate it by suggesting you or they "couldn't do a thing about it". I think a much better response to the person experiencing the guilt is the simple, unadorned truth: You could have done something about it, but for whatever reason you did not, or could not, or what you did was too late; it is these mistakes that make us human, and that we learn from: perhaps in a future situation what you do will lead to a better outcome.

The Other Victims

As I have mentioned earlier, some of my encounters with the cloaked traveller were a direct result of someone's complete lack of good judgement, or selfishness, or total lack of respnsibility. It is these events to which I consider the traveller has been invited, when he absolutely did not need to be. Generally it is easy to determine who the victims are, as they are lying lifeless in their vehicles, or die on the way to hospital, or perhaps after being admitted. And for some reason, these victims generally did not bring their deaths upon themselves, but had another person deal them their final hand.

There are however, a group of other individuals who can also be identified as victims. Although they do not suffer any physical harm, the emotional, psychological, and mental injuries they suffer can last a lifetime. They are the people who, like me, have to witness the completely abysmal behaviour of some total fuck-up who, driving like a complete moron decides to kill somebody else on the road. Pardon the language, but there really isn't a simpler way of expressing it.

My goal in presenting this argument is not to garner any sympathy, as I don't need it, but for the reader to understand that in every collision that claims a life or lives, not only are the lives of the few people directly involved affected, but those of a large number of other people as well: The families and friends of the all the drivers and passengers involved in the collision, all of the witnesses to the collision, and their families, as well as all the emergency personnel called out to clean up the carnage.

Sometimes I get angry, and think "What fucking right do you (the irresponsible driver) have to come out here on a public roadway, risking the lives of both yourself, and other innocent people, or even killing someone outright.....If you want some death, just stay at home and blow your fucking brains out in front of your TV, and make the world a whole better place."

I remember testifying in a case involving two men charged with Dangerous Driving (Cause Death) about a year and a half ago. One thing I will never forget is speaking with another witness, who had been driving directly behind the vehicle involved in the head-on collision caused by one of the two "racing" vehicles. It had been almost two years after the collision, and in that length of time she never got behind the steering wheel of a car. She had been completely traumatized by the violence and horrific nature of the collision, and the death of the innocent driver in front of her. Not a particularly good thing for her, as she had a good career as an outside sales representative of a large canadian pharmaceutical company. I think the company made room for her in the organization, but what if they couldn't? That would be the end of her career in that field.

No One Said Life Was Fair

Over the years I have lost count of the number of people I have witnessed die. It is certainly well over 10, but if i sat down and thought about it, dug deep, I think the count is closer to 15 or 16. There are many questions I have asked myself, thoughts I have pondered, as a result of my meetings with the traveller. Probably the most compelling, however, is the argument that life should be fair, that of those who died, most of them did not deserve death. Why did these people die? Whose right was it to take their lives from them? I can't begin to imagine the sense of loss, heartbreak, and sorrow experienced by those who have been told that someone they love has died as a result of an automobile collision.

One of the more recent