Random musings on a writer's life & times, with occasional input from acquaintances
Sunday, November 13, 2005
So did you see that wire story in The Oregonian the other day about the mother and two middle-aged sons who went to Port Orford from Idaho to scatter their husband/father’s ashes in the Pacific and got knocked down by a “sneaker” wave that drowned the mother and one of the sons? Is that irony, or what?
Reminds me of a story I covered (by phone, thank god, not on the scene) when I was a reporter for the Minneapolis Trombone many years back. A northern Minnesota family -- dad, mom, grade school son and daughter -- went without individual gifts so they could pool their Christmas money and buy a snowmobile as a family present. Christmas morning they took the machine out to tear around the snowbound countryside, sped onto a frozen-over lake and plummeted through the ice. All four drowned.
On the lighter side, I covered (again by phone, again in Minneapolis) a story about young marrieds who set out for the hospital through a blizzard when the wife went into labor with their first baby. They ran off the road into a ditch in the middle of rural Minnesota nowhere. The husband pulled the wife out of the car and coaxed her a mile or so through snow and howling wind to the nearest building, which turned out to be an old folks’ home. One of the residents turned out to be a retired obstetrician, age 87 or thereabouts, who delivered the baby with no sweat. (Beulah! Boil some water and tear up those sheets!)
Irony is part of life, and death. Hi-dee-ho.