A son should never die before his father.
I’m not sure where or even when I first heard that sad
expression, but it stayed with me.
As a professional journalist, there is nothing more difficult
than covering a tragedy such as the one that just occurred in our
community.
A son should never die before his father.
I’m not sure where or even when I first heard that sad expression, but it stayed with me.
As a professional journalist, there is nothing more difficult than covering a tragedy such as the one that just occurred in our community.
Anyone who feels that reporters, photographers or editors feel some sort of morbid excitement or fascination with stories like these is absolutely wrong.
The thought that something like this will help sell newspapers sickens me.
We are human and have felt death just like everyone else.
When I first heard that there had been a fatal accident over the weekend, I felt sadness.
When I then was told it was two young men in the community, recent San Benito High School graduates, it stopped me with grief.
Why does this happen? There are so many wicked people in this world who are allowed to live, why does the gift of youth have to be snatched so suddenly?
When I was a sports columnist in Hawaii, a high school football star was killed when his car struck a telephone pole on his way home from a date one night just after the season had ended.
I remember his name to this day: Jason Keo, and he played running back for Kahuku High School.
I went to the accident site on the windward side of Oahu the next morning and his friends, relatives and teammates had gathered.
I’ll never, ever forget his smiling face in a picture of him in his uniform that had been taped to the pole.
And I can still see and smell the beautiful Maile leis, traditional wreaths of island flowers, that had been placed on the ground nearby.
Suddenly, we all held hands in a circle – I started to step back but one of his cousins smiled and reached out for my hand – and then I held another’s.
One of his “Aunties” prayed and then sang in her native Hawaiian as we bowed our heads.
Later, she told me with a smile what a “rascal” Jason could be, then the first hint of tears appeared as she said how kind he was as well. Her last words to me were: “We have to go home now and feed the rest of the boys.”
Yesterday, I slowly drove past where the accident occurred off of Fairview Road. It was raining, just like it did in Hawaii that morning.
I feel so badly for everyone involved, all victims in my view. I am so sorry, especially for the parents of the boys who died.
I crashed my parents’ cars twice in Chicago when I was in high school and somehow got out with minor injuries. Luckily, no one else was hurt either time. Both times I had been drinking beer with my friends. Back then, there wasn’t nearly the warning, penalties or scrutiny.
But it was just as foolish and daring and dangerous.
We must make allowances for young people to make mistakes, even when they turn into tragedy.
There has to be forgiveness because it truly was an accident.
No son should die before his father.
In Hawaii or Hollister.
