It is really strange how I get an idea and write about it. I wake up and there it is. It is something ringing in my mind. It usually takes a moment and then it is there.
Today the first thing in my mind was David. To me he is the image of the American tragedy. A story of a guy going down the road minding his own business and life is great and then bam. Life takes a turn and he is a wreck victim.
David and I worked a recreation facility in Broward County. This was quite a ways back in time. In fact so far back that I cannot remember his last name. I have tried but there is a memory block.
David and I took our children to the recreation center. My two, Sam and Beth played with his two kids. David and I were both teachers, albeit not the same school. I was a teacher in Middle School and he taught in a High School.
We played a gazillion games while we waited to start the day. Checkers and Chess plus others were on the agenda. We took the kids with our recreation groups to various things around the county.
Life seemed good for both of us. We were in the middle of our careers and the kids enjoyed the summer. Then the summer was over and the busy lives we lead resulted in us going our separate ways.
I did not see David ever again. It was a spooky thing. One day I read in the Ledger, our paper here in Broward, of the tragedy concerning David. His wife had divorced him, he went nuts, lost his job as a teacher. He met her on the steps of the courthouse and pleaded with her not to go ahead with the finalization of the divorce. She refused. He took out a gun. He killed himself, an American tragedy.