Please allow me to make a disclaimer here on the front end. It is with a heavy heart that, from time to time, I find it necessary to write about something that is very painful for me.
The title for today’s column is “Please God; I’m Only 17,” and even though it is distasteful, if I can save just a few precious human lives, it will be worth it. The content for this column ran in a Dear Abby column several years ago, but it was written by Margaret Nelson of Skokie, Ill., who requested that Abby reprint it. This was for her 16-year-old grandson, who had just enrolled in a Driver’s Education Class. It is possible that you may have seen this before, but with more than 50,000 deaths each year on our nation’s highways and a disproportionate number of these being teenagers, if it even saves a few lives, as I said earlier, it will be worth it. The article begins:
“The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus, but I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of mom. ‘Special favor,’ I pleaded. ‘All the kids drive.’ When the 2:50 bell rang, I threw all my books in the locker. I was free until 8:40 tomorrow morning. I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss. Free!! It doesn’t matter how the accident happened. I was goofing off, going too fast, taking crazy chances, but I was enjoying my freedom and having fun.
“The last thing I remember was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow. I heard a deafening crash, and I felt a terrible jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream. Suddenly I awakened. It was very quiet. A police officer was standing over me. Then I saw a doctor. My body was mangled. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of jagged glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldn’t feel anything. Hey, don’t pull that sheet over my head. I can’t be dead! I’m only 17. I’ve got a date tonight. I am supposed to grow up and have a wonderful life. I haven’t lived yet. I can’t be dead.
“Later, I was placed in a drawer. My folks had to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this? Why did I have to look at mom’s eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life? Dad suddenly looked like an old man. He told the man in charge, ‘Yes, he’s my son.’ The funeral was a weird experience. I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward the casket. They passed by one by one and looked at me with the saddest eyes I have ever seen. Some of my buddies were crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked away.
“Please somebody wake me up! Get me out of here. Please don’t bury me. I’m not dead. I have a lot of living to do. I want to laugh and run again. I want to sing and dance. Please don’t put me in the ground. I promise if you give me just one more chance, I will be the most careful driver in the whole world. All I want is one more chance. Please God, I’m only 17.”
Well, that is the end of it, but I think we could all make some comments if we had the chance. Personally, I would like to encourage you to clip it out and share with some young person you know, either a family member or a friend. If there is one thing I have noticed, it’s that I have gotten a lot more careful as I have gotten older. Let’s help our young people to grow old. Have a blessed day.
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(Editor’s Note: For a personally signed copy of my new book ‘Your Future Begins Today’ send $20, which includes postage and handling, to Jim Davidson, 2 Bentley Drive, Conway, AR 72034.)