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sgtbull
07-24-2007 22:31:32
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I was recently scanning the forum, and noticed a thread on farm accidents. It brought to mind a story I've wanted to share for many years, but couldn't until today. I couldn't because its revelation would have potentially broken the heart of a kind woman. I saw in the obituary column today that she had passed on. She had no children, and now I can share the story for the first time. I've been a police officer for nigh on 25 yrs., but I grew up on a grain farm. Those early years never leave you, and I have returned to the farm with my family, finally, after too long a time and I play w/ my old farm tractors doing odd jobs around the farm. About 14 yrs ago, I was working a lonely patrol, on Christmas day. I lived a good distance from my family, and I had recently gone through a painful divorce, and was looking for a Christmas meal at one of the very few local diners that was open. I came in to find a nearly deserted place, except for one rather frail looking elderly lady. She looked decidedly lonely. I had no idea who she was. I felt though, on this holiday, two people should seek companionship over our respective meals rather than eating in solitude, and I approached her table, asking if I could join her. She at first seemed rather taken aback that a state trooper would do this, but either out of polite upbringing or simply curiosity, agreed. We sat and talked over our meals, disclosing bits and pieces of ourselves as strangers do who aren't quite sure about their company, but soon enough, I learned that she had lost her husband only a month or so before, in a tragic farm accident. Seems he had been picking corn, and had some problems w/ gathering chains, or the like, but had raised the header, and crawled underneath to work on it. A hydraulic connection of some sort gave way, and the header fell upon him, crushing him. I was taken aback, as I clearly recalled the incident. I was one of the first people to respond, after a passerby had called in that it appeared that there was a man trapped under a combine. The lady seemed uncertain about the details, as no one had really told her a great deal about the incident. The coronor's inquest had yielded no incredible insights, and had been quite brief, with the death being ruled "accidental." She had not even attended the inquest as it was "too painful." What I gleaned from our conversation, was her desire to know if his death had been as quick and painless as she had been told, and apparently she suspected differently. My mind drifted back to that day, and sadly, I have to admit, I somewhat faded out of the conversation with her for a minute or so, as she went on and on describing what a wonderful life they had together and how they had no living relatives and had never had children. She was entirely alone, except for her friends and neighbors. I was recalling what I had seen and done that day. I remember omitting some of the parts at the inquest. I had actually destroyed some evidence that day, totally contradictory to my training and oath of office. And, I pretty much lied under oath, if only by omission. You see, when I got there, although the man was clearly deceased, it was apparent from the scratching and clawing at the dirt and the dirt clenched in his hands, that he had not died quickly. He had been slowly, inexonerably crushed to death, all the while vainly trying to free himself by digging in the nearly frozen November soil. I remember thinking that if a loved one showed up, they should not see that. I recalled taking my foot and brushing away the claw marks. I used my handkerchief to wipe the dirt from his still limber but calloused, age lined hands, that had known only the hard work of a farmer, and apparently, the loving touch of a husband of many years. To this day, only a couple of volunteer fireman knew knew what I had done, and I had made it clear to them that nothing was to be said, and they agreed. The rescue equipment arrived quickly, and the man was removed before his wife arrived. I wondered for a long time if I had done the right thing although I could really see no other course of action at the time. I came back into the conversation, almost like awakening from a nap, and, I gently told the lady that I had been the first police officer there. I assured her that there was no doubt in my mind that his death had been instantaneous, with no realization of what had happened. It seemed, now, that over this quiet Christmas dinner in a lonely little diner, that she had found a small bit of peace. Our conversation turned to other things, and then I received a call on my portable radio of someone broken down on the interstate. I bid her a hasy adieu, and left, but I did pick up her bill on the way out. A little something that made me feel better after a rather "heavy" conversation. It was only later that I realized I had probably given her a gift that would help her through many years to come, not of food, but of comfort. The point of all this? Well, for one, it makes me feel better to tell it, but more importantly, I reminds me everytime I start puttering around w/ my old tractors, jacking them up, taking off tires, or using them in the field, that I am responsible for more than just myself. I have a wife and four kids who need me to come home everynight. To be there for them. It makes me cautious in my job, (6 yrs to go to retire...still work the road, and still take my calls...but I'm pretty damn careful), and it always makes me careful in my hobby... as all of you out there should be too. I hope this give someone a reason to reconsider "mowing just a little closer to the creek", or "just making that quick fix without shutting something off". I'd hate for another officer, or anyone else, to be put in the same position I was.
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