Death on the Highway

I was thrilled when the Ds were accepted into UF. First, the place has become as selective as some Ivy League colleges -- one neighbor got into Cornell and rejected at UF (Cornell wanted her because she was Hispanic, and UF may have figured that she wasn't serious about attending -- she had come from a ritzy private high school).

And, as my father's son, I have become wildly skeptical of the whole college industry -- I am convinced that sending kids to private colleges is somewhat of a scam -- preying on parents' desire to be able to say "My kid goes to Duke" more than anything else. So, when they chose UF, which was essentially a free ride given Bright Futures and the prepaid plan, I was very happy.

Except for one thing: the drive to Gainesville. Years before, a PI lawyer I knew suffered an awful tragedy. His name was Murray, and his son Alan, a Palmetto grad, like my Ds, got into a crash on the Turnpike while driving back to Miami from UF, killing himself, and also a girl named Keri, who was a NMB High classmate of my partner Paul's daughter Tracy.  Murray and his wife Cheryl were of course devastated -- both parents died not too many years later, ostensibly from cancer, but truly of broken hearts.

Their family plot is right across the road from my father in law's grave, and whenever we visit Richard, I'm sure to place three stones on the graves of Murray, Cheryl, and Alan.

So the drive to Gville scared the hell out of me. Often I would drive WITH the Ds, and then fly home, but for D1's years Continental Express ran a commuter flight to MIA, and I would insist D1 take it.

Later, when D2 was there, American Eagle started offering two daily flights, on a jet, no less, and we became frequent customers.

The best part of D2 graduating with her Master's in '15 was knowing I wouldn't have those long drives to worry about anymore.

And sure enough, yesterday my nightmare made the news. A church van from LA was stuck by a semi trailer that came across the median, also hitting another semi. Both truck drivers died, as well as FIVE kids in the van -- they were heading to Disney, of course.

I imagine the van moments before tragedy struck -- these were kids going to Disney world! Were they singing? Were they chatting about what rides they would take?

All I know is, an awful fate overtook them -- and their small town in the Bayou will never recover.

Last night we were so blessed -- Wifey and I met D1 and Joey for dinner at Amara, favorite chef Michael Schwartz's new place in Edgewater. We all have our health back after a December of illness - in D1's case, far worse than the rest of us.

We toasted (well, Joey and I did) and talked of our families, and the future.  It was a delightful evening.

So I feel, deeply, for the families of the people killed on I-75. It could be any of us. We must be grateful when it isn't.