A Past Memorial Day

    It was the day of the Memorial Day parade in Valley Falls, an exciting family event back then, in 1977. Dave had gone ahead with the two older kids and I was wheeling Danny in a baby carriage. As we started up the hill on State Street,  both sides of the street were lined with people, and I saw Ethel bringing some food to her grandson and granddaughter who were sitting on the bank. At the time Ethel and her mother lived in one apartment in the former Griggs house, and Sharon and family lived in the adjoining apartment. As I got closer to their house, I greeted them and Ethel walked over to see the baby. Sharon was standing nearby, visibly upset,   and I remember Ethel saying that Mary Ellen probably doesn't know what had happened the night before. I said I didn't and she told me Bob had been in a serious accident, wrecking his new truck on the road past the cemeteries in Troy. (The road behind where the Stewart's now stands on Oakwood.) She said he was in the hospital with life-threatening injuries. When she told me, I was completely shocked. I still have a vivid imprint of the moment. I remember focusing on what was before me: That was Danny, at three months old  dressed in an orange terrycloth suit with yellow trim. For some reason I can still see and feel the texture of that outfit and the baby wearing it.

    Ethel asked if I had a prayer to St. Jude, patron saint of difficult cases. This was at a time before copying or downloading. The original was it.  I always carried a quite well-used prayer to St. Jude card in my wallet. I didn't have it with me. I went home and got it and brought it to her house.

   Some days later, Dave and I visited Bob in the hospital, Albany Med, I think. Bob was alert in his bed, and talking with Dave, who was across from where I was standing. Suddenly a nurse asked Dave if he was all right, and she provided him a chair. Dave had been talking with Bob when he suddenly noticed that his head was being stabilized by screws that had been driven into the bone of his skull. I'd never known  Dave to be prone to fainting, but an alert nurse apparently did. 

  As we left, I heard Bob saying, "Dave, I'm going to walk to your house when I get out of here."