A couple of nights ago, I ran into some older neighbors of mine, William and Anna, at Target. We talked for five minutes or so, and William seemed perfectly healthy. Saturday, I watched a very different William as paramedics worked on his body as he lay in the grass — trying to keep him from dying.
I don’t know yet what happened to William. A paramedic told another neighbor that they thought he was dead, but that they’d been able to get a pulse back. I look this picture from my yard as they worked on him at the other end of the street. He was taken to a nearby hospital and that’s all I know so far.
I’d already been thinking earlier in the day about the uncertainty of life. There was a traffic accident in Birmingham Friday morning on one of the major arteries into downtown in which two women were killed. A company truck of some kind swerved from the other side of the road and hit their SUV head-on. Other vehicles were also hit, but the two primary ones ended up in flames.
A 55-year-old woman was driving her 74-year-old mother to work and then heading on to work herself. The younger woman’s husband was at home drinking his morning coffee and watched coverage of the accident (and resulting traffic snarl) on television before heading to his job at the Birmingham Museum of Art. His wife’s boss soon called to ask about her and he started trying to reach her. Then a childhood friend who’s a police officer called and told him he needed to come home — because his wife was dead.

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