Damned Demons

My high school German teacher was a teacher of the old school. She was strict. She was demanding. But she loved her students.

One morning at the beginning of class she noticed that Patty was absent. My teacher remembered a front page story in the evening newspaper from the day before. A look of fear came across her face and she quietly asked, “Was that her mother?”

I knew where Patty lived. I was also friends with someone whose family was friends with Patty’s family. I knew that Patty’s mother had been in a bad traffic accident years before and was in constant terrible pain.

The story in the newspaper told of a woman who went into her garage, took a garden hose from the exhaust pipe of her car, ran the other end of the hose into the car, got in the car, and turned on the engine.

When I worked the night shift at a radio station in Central California, Mike did mornings. He was a loud, boisterous kind of guy. He had done mornings for years, but was later demoted to mid-days when a friend of the program director’s was looking for work.

Mike ended up quitting a few years later and opened a bar. Ten years after I left the radio station a friend from that station called me to tell that one day, as Mike’s wife was about to go Christmas shopping, Mike told her that she would get a big surprise when she came home.

When his wife came home, she found that Mike had blown his head off with a shotgun.

A few months ago there was a post about of an obituary of one of my instructors from junior college. He was 73, as I recall, and had died of natural causes. That did get me thinking about Dan, another instructor.

Dan was a good guy with a great sense of humor. He was rather dapper, always wearing a three-piece suit to class. He drove a classic Jaguar. Dan was looking forward to me being successful in radio and he could not wait to listen to me on KGO (San Francisco) – even though radio was not my major in junior college.

I tried looking up information about Dan. About the only thing I could find at first was mention of a memorial scholarship in his name. Further searching told me he died in August, 1981. He was 38.

I have a friend from high school who went into the line of work we studied in junior college. Dave is retired now and often travels to diverse place around the world. I did not want to ask Dave when he was on one of his trips. Last night he was home, so I messaged him.

He replied, “Only know the short story, he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Whatever demons he was fighting got the better of him.”

Several days ago I was speaking with someone about what super power we would like to have. We talked about the usual stuff.

Now I realize that if I could have a super power, it would be the ability to slay those demons that drive people to desperation.

As I mentioned, my friend Dave travels around the world. He goes where the people go, not to big resorts. It is as if he travels to see the good in people everywhere. I have often thought that this was his way of fighting his demons.

I just wish I could help others fight theirs.