The Road Is Long ... Sometimes

A depressing day. The rain moved in around midnight and thrashed against the windows enough to awaken me in the night. Although I love rain, I prefer to watch it fall from the cozy confines of my home. Even so, I was up early to get ready for depositions across town. As I headed out it was still raining, but clear skies were promised for later in the day.

The case at hand revolved around a catastrophic 2006 traffic accident that resulted in the death of a young man not much more than 20. The first deponent was one of South Carolina's finest state troopers and he arrived right on schedule as these dedicated people are prone to do. Sadly however, before the deposition got underway and we settled in to talk about old bad news, there was some new bad news.

It seems that another state trooper, an 11-year veteran of the South Carolina Highway Patrol and himself a future deponent in the very case we were assembled to discuss, was killed this morning as he drove to assist in the investigation of yet another traffic calamity. Trooper James Haynes's death is being blamed on the heavy rain, which caused hydroplaning just before he lost control of his vehicle. He was 38 years old and is survived by a wife and two young children.

We finished our depos around three o'clock. The sun had emerged and was twinkling on puddles as I steered my car toward home. I called The Gregory to see what kind of day he was having. He asked me what I was doing and I said I was about to do a bite-the-bullet and stop by Wal-Mart before going home, to pick up some necessities. I wheeled into the Wal-Mart parking lot intent on getting in and out as quickly as possible.

I always start in the produce department. Near the bagged vegetables a seriously elderly gentleman approached me and asked sweetly, "Could you help me?" then hastily added: "I'm not flirting with you." I figure this fellow has seen at least fifty more birthdays than Trooper Haynes was granted on earth. "Oh? Whyever not?" I teased, feigning disappointment. He cackled and said, "You don't want an old man like me." Turns out all he needed was help locating the pre-packaged Caesar salad mix, complete with bacon bits and dressing right in the bag. When I found it for him, he was so happy he declared that if he knew me better, he would have given me a hug.

I could have used that hug. On the last leg of my journey home I thought about Trooper Haynes's two grieving children who will grow up without their dad. Whatever he wanted to say to them, whatever he wanted to teach them, time's up. My own father died in a terrible accident on a Friday morning while he was hard at work -- only instead of driving a car, he was flying a plane. He would have turned 38 a few weeks after his death, and he left four children who would never know him.

Die young, or live to be so old you need help finding your salad ... I don't know, y'all. Short or long, sometimes the road is hard.