Fourth of July

 Tomorrow is July 4.  Independence Day.  The 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. America’s birthday. Celebrations big and small will be held all over the country. But I won’t be celebrating. 

I’m not celebrating for a couple of reasons.  First, and I’m sorry but this part is about to get political, Trump has completely ruined any joy, celebration, or feeling of patriotism or pride in the USA.  He’s made it all about him.  I don’t feel any pride or patriotism right now.  But that’s not the main reason I don’t celebrate the 4th.  

July 4, 1971.  I was 15 years old. My friend Reuben and I were riding around town seeing what we could get into.  His brother was at the house of some of his friends and they were all drinking.  Reuben and I decided to go by there to see what they were up to. 

Reuben’s brother and his friend Tommy were there and they were extremely drunk.  Somehow, from somewhere, Reuben’s brother had a gun. He was waving it around and I was heading for the door.  I didn’t want to accidentally get shot by a drunk.  Tommy, on the other hand, looked at him and said “shoot me motherf**ker.” So Woody put the gun in Tommy’s mouth and pulled the trigger.  

I saw the whole thing.  I saw blood and brains spattered on the wall.  I saw Tommy fall to the floor dead.  I ran for the car and Reuben and I went to the local funeral home that provided ambulance service to get help.

But it was obvious that Tommy was dead.  They called the police and the coroner.   I had to give statements to both.  I went and found my father at my uncle’s house and he and I went back so I could give my statements.  

No criminal charges were filed, Tommy’s parents said it was a terrible tragic accident and they wouldn’t press charges.  They did, however, sue Woody and got a large inheritance he had received from his grandfather.  Once again I had to give a deposition.  

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, 15 months later Reuben was killed in a car wreck when he tried to beat a train to a crossing. The scariest part of that is that I was on my way to meet him when he had the wreck   If I’d been 30 minutes earlier I’d have been in the car with him.

I still suffer from PTSD to this day.  Every Fourth of July I get depressed and anxious   This year is no different.  I can’t bring myself to celebrate on a day that was so tragic and painful for me.  I’ll have a quiet day with Susan.  We plan to cook something on the grill and watch the Cubs game. And that’s all I want.

I hope you all have a safe and enjoyable Fourth of July.  Please pray that I have a peaceful day.  

  

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