A collective memory

To follow the bike and walking trail by the creek near my house, you need to go from near the water and take a hill up to the street, cross the street, and then reconnect with the trail. The park board has plans to redesign this area, so that trail users won't need to go up and cross the street. The board also plans to separate the bike and pedestrian paths here, which can't come soon enough.

Some of you may remember the story that follows. Before I had to call 911 and describe the bottom-of-the-hill location to an ambulance, I used to try to avoid this part of the trail when biking. Since then, I always exit to the street about a quarter mile before approaching this area, and bypass it by a couple of blocks.

What happened? My cousin, her husband, their daughter, were visiting from Ohio and we were riding our bikes home from the library. Knowing that the hill is an area just waiting to be the scene of an accident, I slowed down and called out far in advance that we were passing on the left. A woman in her mid-80s turned her head and looked back over her shoulder, lost her balance, and fell and hit her head. It was horrible. My sweet cousin took care of her, while I called 911 and, after a really long wait, directed the paramedics from the street to the woman. The wait was really frustrating. On the bright side, once the woman could speak a bit more clearly, we were able to send a bystander to go fetch her son.

My cousin gave the son my contact information. When my husband said that someone had stopped by the house and dropped off a package a couple of days later, my lawyer brain thought, "Is he suing me?" No. He dropped off flowers. His mother and I spoke on the phone a few times and exchanged a couple of cards after she got out of the hospital and, when the son was running for city council, I saw him at a debate and asked about his mother. She was fine.

Today, I was flipping through the paper (unusual) and was turning through the pages and my eyes hit the obituaries (even more unusual). I saw that the woman died of complications from a stroke. I so very much hope that her head's arteries and veins were not compromised by that fall. Anyhow, I read her obituary. She was 89. She graduated from the U of M in 1948, was a journalist, and won local awards for her work, which I think is really interesting. Also interesting? She set up a scholarship fund for high school students wanting to study journalism. I wonder how the study of journalism today compares to 1948.

I told my cousin, who mentioned that her daughter (who was about 4 at the time) remembers that day vividly, as do we.

RIP, Dorothy. Thank you for teaching me that people can be very generous, forgiving, and kind in really crappy situations.