Remembering the tragic deaths of 40 years ago

I was eight-years-old when twin girls from my church were killed in a car accident along with their mother and a younger brother and sister.

That was 40 years ago on Friday, June 6, 1975. 

Christmas '72: Karleen, Marce, Stacie, Carissa

Everyone was devastated.

Pat, the mother, was a prominent member of the community and served on the South Dakota Board of Regents, the board that controls higher educational institutions in the state.

As I reflected on this milestone, I realized it was my first experience with death.

The twins were born two months before me, and I often wonder how my life would have been different had Carissa and Karleen been around.

I never played against them in a basketball game. Never sang in the church choir with them. Never told them, “Hey, I finally got my period” or “Mom let me start shaving my legs” or "Todd asked me to the prom."

Would we have drug Main Street in Huron together? Discussed the cute boys at our respective schools? Made the trek to Tabor during our college years?

Marce, Karleen, me, John Wollman, Kristine Wollman (standing )
Stephanie Peters (her birthday party), Carissa

From what I recall, Carissa was loud and blunt; whereas, Karleen was more girlish and quiet. But that’s my eight-year-old mind remembering.

I've never known another Karleen, and had I ever been a mother to a girl, Karleen would have been her name.

The twins usually wore matching clothes. I remember their colorful ponchos and shag haircuts. Their doll house was the size of my dining room table with the leaf in. I wonder whatever became of that. They shared a large room with twin beds. I envied them having a playmate in each other.

my 6-year-old birthday party
I'm seated with Carissa & Karleen standing to my left with Marce in front

I've never known another Marce, their brother. Their little sister Stacie had gone through multiple procedures to correct an issue with her legs. My young mind wondered why God would put her through all that if He was just going to take her home anyway.
 
When I learned about the fatal accident, I was in the middle of the yard playing. Mom came out and said, “Pat and the kids were killed in a terrible accident while on their way to see Don at National Guard camp in Minnesota.”

Just like that. She said it. No beating around the bush. That’s my mom. She said it like it was.

In shock, I responded with, “I said goodbye to them after VBS today.” Then my eight-year-old reasoning mind set in, “They just got that new car.”

The Mendels had driven a tiny, light blue car with a hatchback. It wasn’t really a station wagon—it wasn’t big enough to be called that. I can picture that car now. But they’d finally gotten a bigger vehicle, a regular-sized four-door car. Everybody at church was so happy they had a roomier vehicle. Strange how my mind went there after Mom told me.

On that Sunday, a couple days after their deaths, we didn’t have a normal church service, but the sanctuary was packed. The funeral, held in the Doland gym, was the same way.

Five caskets.

I have a book that Pat, the twins' mom, gave me. She was our Sunday School Superintendent at Ebenezer Church. She wrote a personal message in it to me. Ironically, it’s a book about a teacher. And take a look at what she wrote in it.

Pat's note to me in 1974:
I hope you enjoy this book. Maybe someday you'll be a teacher.

I guess Pat knew something I didn’t. It wasn’t until I was a sophomore in college that I changed my major from mass communications to English. I hope I’ve done her proud. 

God has blessed me with a joyful life and few regrets. Good health, a fulfilling career, a husband, a step-daughter and son-in-law, and most recently, a beautiful little grandson.

As I reach each milestone in my life, I think of the twins in a special way.

Carissa and Karleen. Never to be forgotten.

A Deed Provides a Need

When I tell people I teach middle school English, they laugh and apologize. When they hear I also teach high school public speaking, they moan. I am not sure which disturbs them the most--the subject matter or the age group.

But I am certain not too many people have ever known a high schooler to do this: hand a teacher the keys to her car and say, "I can walk or catch a ride with friends. You need a car worse than I do."

That is exactly what happened after Brooke Voth, a generous high school girl and daughter of a teaching colleague, learned that I had had a car accident in October 2000. She dropped her car keys into my sweaty hands when I was at middle school basketball practice and said, "You can use my car."

Incredible.

Here is Brooke, as a middle schooler after a big basketball win, her hand touching mine. It would not be the last time.

A few days later Peggy Gregory, another teaching colleague, loaned me a car they had available—that way Brooke could still use her vehicle.

Incredible.

The Gregory car starting acting up right about the time mine was finally fixed. It was only the alternator. Whew--I did not want to get the reputation of being a car-jinx. 

Paula, Brooke's mom, in pink. Peggy in the middle back. Jim Gillett on the left and Jack Goss on the right. Picture taken sometime between fall of 1989 to spring of 1993 because we are in the old jr. high. And yes, that's me--stylin' with those fold-over-the-waist pants.

Around the time this car accident happened, I had recently taken a Crown Financial Ministries course emphasizing a biblical approach to finances. I had been tithing faithfully, earning extra money by keeping the volleyball books at games, and sticking to my budget.

In addition, my car insurance paid a daily allowance towards a rental car for each day I was without my car. I called my insurance agent, Steve Pore, to make sure this was ethical. He said I paid for the policy and this was a benefit of it.

I decided to put the figures on paper for the three months I had been following that budget. To my surprise, I was more than even-Steven. I made money. Maybe only about seventeen bucks, but still--incredible.

For the second accident years later, yet another teacher friend helped me. Kay Wulf loaned me her car, and she drove her pick-up for a couple of weeks. 

Incredible. Students and colleagues alike prove that a friend in deed is a friend to one in need.

How about you? Ever had a high schooler surprise you with their thoughtfulness on a adult level? Or a colleague provide a basic need? I'd enjoy hearing about your experiences in the comment section below.

Kay with me after Wichita Music Theater in summer of 2014.

Writer's Note: My brand new Alero was barely one-year-old when she ended up in the body shop. For more details about the car accidents referred to in this post, read An Out Pore-ing of Appreciation.