B3_U06_A.ppt

Every 23 Minutes Linda Welter 1 My husband and I went to a funeral a few weeks ago. The man we honored had not been ill and will never grow old. He was killed in his car on a Sunday night, driving home along a divided highway. 2 It was an ordinary evening, no blacker than any other, when a car coming in the other direction went out of control, broke through the guard rail, and hit two other cars before smashing head on into his. According to the newspaper, the driver, who was returning from a wedding, seemed puzzled. “I only had two bottles of beer and a cocktail.” she is reported to have said. 7 Somebody drinks. 8 Somebody drives. 9 Somebody dies. 10 And other lives are altered forever, though sometimes the changes may be invisible to a casual observer. By chance, the day before the funeral I ran into a longtime acquaintance while shopping. He commented on my crutches. I asked if he had ever broken his leg. “Uh, I have a long rod in this thigh,” he said, “from a car accident two weeks after I came back from Vietnam.” 11 “That’s ironic. To leave a war zone and then get injured,” I teased him. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.” 14 I wish I knew the answers to those questions. I wish I could offer those answers to the woman who, overwhelmed by grief, could barely walk as she followed her husband’s coffin from the church.? 15 Every 23 minutes, who dies? 16 A mother who will never comfort the child who needs her. A woman who will never know how very much her friends depended on her. A man whose contributions to his community would have made a difference. A wife whose husband cannot picture the future without her. 17 Every 23 minutes, who dies? 21 Every 23 minutes, who dies? 22 A child who will never fulfill his early promise. An uncle who leaves his children without guidance and support. A grandmother whose husband must now grow old alone. A lover who never had a chance to say how much he cared. Every 23 minutes. 23 A void opens. 24 Someone loo