I don't recall exactly why it happened. I don't remember
if it was a singular event... a flashpoint... or if it developed over time. All
I know is that the word on the street was that my former buddy, Rod was after me and was
patiently awaiting the opportunity to fight me... to teach me a lesson of some
sort. And he became very vocal about it. Everyone knew. He made sure of that.
I have never been one who has sought the spotlight. I've
never enjoyed being the center of attention. I tried to avoid being that guy.
It was particularly dreadful when my name was on the lips of many for all the
wrong reasons. This was one of those times.
As horrible as this time was for me... how much worse
would it have been if we had the social media that we have today? I can only
imagine. It would have been brutal.
Rod and I were really good friends at one point. We
hung out together all the time the summer
We never built the fort. But that was okay. It was the
fantasy and the planning that was fun and helped us forge that bond of
friendship that summer.
In less than two years’ time, that friendship had not
only eroded into nothing but had morphed into hostility. Violent hostility.
It was the tail end of my sophomore year of high school.
1975. The weather had warmed up after months of frigid temperatures, snow and a
collective case of cabin fever for the teens of Madrid, Iowa. Outdoor
activities had picked up for everyone... except me, it seemed. I was hiding
out. Other than attending school, I was in total seclusion.
I went to school. I came home from school. And the routes
I took were as stealth as I could make them. Avoid the busier streets, cut
through the back yards as much as possible and
Rod was a bit crazy, at least that was my perception and this is what concerned me. He
didn't seem to have much discernment and discretion. I wasn't sure what he
might be capable of. In retrospect... I'm sure I blew this out of proportion but nevertheless... this caused me great anxiety. I would fall asleep each
night and wake up each morning... with him on my mind. It consumed me. It put
me in a perpetual state of anxiety.
There was never any indication that my
"friends" had my back. They were silent. I was an island.
"Lonely" doesn't quite capture it. It was far, far beyond that.
Rod drove a royal blue, late model Nova. Nice set of
wheels for a kid. I made it my number one priority to scan the landscape for
that vehicle... no matter where I was and what I was doing. And it seems I saw
it often. It was as if he was stalking me... which... he probably was.
Living on the main drag of town, there were times when I
would walk out my front door... and there was that blue Nova... slowly driving
by with the driver staring a hole through me. Sometimes he would turn onto the
alley that ran behind my house and he would cruise by as though he were casing
the joint.
To be clear, Rod was not the reason for all of my mental and emotional turmoil. He just helped create one more situation... among many... that
made life miserable for me during that period of time. If every other aspect of
my life would have been good… then I probably could have handled this squabble
with Rod. But my existence was a dark cloud. My life sucked. I hated it. I
REALLY hated it!
So, I'm just going to say this... I have never shared
this with anyone for obvious reasons… I thought that ending my life might just
be the best option available for me. Why not? Nobody would really care, right?
Some might even be happy about it. That was my mindset and rationale.
I made a mental list of ways that I could carry it out...
a gun to the head, a leap from the viaduct onto the railroad tracks, a bottle
of pills. Strangely, I felt a sense of calm and peace as I contemplated these
options. Anything that offered an escape from the misery gave me momentary
solace.
I considered leaving these thoughts out of my writings.
It's dark. It's highly personal. It's sensitive. It's embarrassing. But... it's
the truth. It happened. If I leave it out, I'm not showing the transparency
needed to paint an accurate picture of this period of time in my life. I was a
mess.
Suicide is not the answer. It is never the answer. As I
look back across the decades that have passed since this time in my life, the amazing
wife, the tremendous children, the beautiful grandchildren that God has blessed
me with... the precious friends, the momentous events, the multitude of
undeserved blessings that God has bestowed upon me... I can tell you with the
utmost confidence and conviction... to be patient... persevere... work through
those dark seasons of your life... because God has a plan. Life will get
better. You will be stronger. Do not rob your influence from the individuals
who need you now and in the future.
Those are my thoughts now but they were not my thoughts
then. My decision was made. I was really going to do it.
1959 – 1975
He had his whole life ahead of him.
He was only 16.
