By Gregg Howard
My grandpa Fred was friends with the cowboy actor Tom Mix. In fact, it was Fred who Tom was on the way to visit the night he died in a car accident.
They were going fishing.
That was 1940, and Mix was drunk, but Grandpa still felt bad about it ever after.
Thirty years later, Fred’s only daughter, my mother, was killed by a drunk driver on his way to that same lake.
I wonder if the guy still feels guilty about that.
There’s a stone-and-brass monument where Tom Mix died.
Where my mother was killed, there is now a Walgreen’s.
Yeah; this is very true to life, Gregg.
I always see those memorials along the highway where some one has perished. They tell you something about the survivors but nothing about the victims.
This one is so powerful that it actually hurts. Well done, sir.
Wow. Great piece.