Friday, April 14, 2017


The first promise of spring that Friday in 1967 arrived. The day was warm, close to 70 degrees, the sun brightening the end of what was a nasty winter, and so my drawing instructor decided we would, as a class, move outside with the model and have our session on the lawn that surrounded the chalet.

It was the last class of the week and everyone was planning their weekend. The model settled amidst the surrounding pads and charcoals as we began the end of the week.

Once the class ended, Tom my housemate and I headed for his car to head back to our rented house where we would both go to our real homes for the weekend.

The Friday night traffic along Old Country Road was heavy, moving from red light to the next, I sat next to Tom, my drawing pad on my lap and me doodling on the cover. As we came to a green light, I happened to look up and see a pickup truck cross our path at the last moment, causing Tom to swing wide to his right to avoid the truck, as we barreled into two parked cars on the curb.

When the car stopped, I leaned back in the seat and felt what I thought was sweat, and when I wiped my head, I realized it was blood. Then there was a funny sensation in my right leg, looking down I saw the most horrible sight imaginable, a bone was sticking through my right foot sock, the foot itself in a very unnatural direction, suddenly I fell back and lied on the seat, Tom had gotten out. A man came and opened the door on my side, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped my brow. The next thing I know, I was in the hospital in Mineola!



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