From the Archives August 25, 1990

From the Archives: August 25, 1990  While Pastor at 

Church of the Gesu, Philadelphia

Off to getting some exercise, I was seeking a parking site on one of the Chestnut Hill entrances to Wissahickon Valley Park.   Reaching an unfamiliar corner where I imagined that I should make a left turn, I checked and found no opposing traffic.  But I failed to see the red light mounted on a pole to the right.   The next thing I can remember: waking up in the hospital recovering from a concussion.  While my car was totaled, thankfully there were no injuries to the people driving the truck.

The nurse told me that the police had walked me into the emergency room of Chestnut Hill Hospital and dropped me there with a singular remark, "he was in an accident and is very confused."

I have no recollection of those hours of unconsciousness but I did dream during that period.  One a dream of a woman I had seen just a short time before walking in a section of the Park where I could not find a proper parking space.   And another dream at least of the sound of the CAT scan.   When I came to later at my bedside I found  Jesuit and housemate Vince Taggart and Gesu parishioner Mary Greene, a confirmation for me that I would be OK.

A Cloud of Survival

I wonder now about the sound

That crashed against my skull.

It did not reach my ears or mind.

My memory is null.

 

I hear instead the water flow,

A trickle cross the stones.

It heals my heart, it heals my soul,

It heals my very bones.

 

The path that slopes above the stream

Is almost overgrown.

I climb it as if in a dream

And find I’m not alone.

 

I overtake with tepid pace

Her slow and graceful gait.

And with a smile on her face

She tells me of my fate.

 

Lost the crash, lost the groans

And lost are all the sighs

When I awake I see my friends

They hold me in their eyes.