I remembered David tonight for the first time in, perhaps, decades. One of my best friends in highschool was Steve Moore. He was fairly tall, lean, well-humoured and very smart. Steve was usually serious, perhaps a better word is "mature," with his thinking. And he was definitely a big brother to his sibling, David.
David had a big toothy grin that went from behind one ear all the way to the other side of his head and a twinkle that would tell you mischief was afoot. The appeal was instant and you always found yourself wondering what adventure you were about to embark on with this handsome imp. He was comical, enthusiastic, and very loveable. He was everybody's friend and everybody's little brother.
I was at work the night I heard. David had been at a party and decided to climb the old elm tree in the front of the house that hung out over the street. He was clowning around, as usual, and misjudged a distance between branches. When he hit the pavement on his hind end, his head went back into a steel bumper on a car. He was fifteen.
As you get older, you get used to people passing on. I have had several friends and family members herald the last years of their lives in my presence. When it is a process it is easier to accept. The march of time excludes no one. But when it happens that a life ends abruptly, it causes one to pause.
If there were ever a couple you wanted to hate but couldn't, it was Ken & Ellen. Each of them embraced their passions and shared all of that and more with each other and you. Their spirits were gentle, intelligent, compassionate and very detail-oriented. They were the kind of folks to drop in because they were in the neighborhood after taking a twelve mile run; happy beyond belief and just looking for some water, perhaps.
He was an accomplished artist and she, a oncology nurse who dealt specifically with pain mediation. Their common love - beyond each other - was kayaking. They had run a kayak symposium on the Olympic Peninsula for seven years and one day saw a property for sale overlooking a bay that they really liked.
They made an offer on the cabin with five acres of woods and wetlands, wood-fired hottub and all, and moved out from Seattle shortly thereafter.
It was never difficult to consider these two as friends. Each exuded such positive, peaceful energy that just being around them made you feel better . . . with some self-induced, guilt-laden resolve to reconsider the New Year's resolutions dropped.
I can still see the flash of excitement in Ellen's eyes as she would recount her kayak journeys, her appreciation of her husband's art, or whatever aspect of her life she wanted to share. Every aspect was wonder-filled and it was easy to be swept up in her passions.
She was a pillar of strength and very empathetic, a great, big sister. And she reached out to many; wanting to help, willing to share.
At 7:45 yesterday, Sunday morning, Ellen was heading toward town and had gone about a half-mile down the highway in her light duty pickup truck with the kayak rack over the bed when a 24 year-old woman in a full-sized pickup truck heading in the opposite direction apparently tried to pass on a blind curve.
Ellen saw the truck approaching and was driving on the shoulder to avoid the oncoming vehicle but the larger truck took out the entire driver's side of Ellen's truck when the two vehicles met head-on. Only the passenger side remained intact.
The 24 year-old female driver of the larger truck was not wearing a seat belt and suffered only minor injuries. She was arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol.
Ellen was 44.
It's tougher when they leave unannounced.
