Waco, the City of Good Samaritans

My husband and I recently attended a concert in a city about 30 miles from our home. I had been excited about the Avett Brothers coming to Ann Arbor since having discovered their music. They are a band from North Carolina and play great music. Their style is difficult to describe because they are their own unique genre; a combination of bluegrass, folk, country, alternative, rock, all rolled up into four storytelling musicians…Since we NEVER and I mean NEVER go to concerts I was thrilled. We could have gone to see Michael Franti recently, but passed up on the opportunity mainly because Michael was playing with John Mayer. And although I like John Mayer's music and think he is talented, I cannot put up with his sophomoric style of kiss-and-tell antics (John, I'd like you to meet Lily Allen…I think you two will hit it off fabulously...) So there I was clapping, dancing, singing along to the AB's music, when my phone buzzed. I think the Avett Brothers were playing their penultimate song; Robert (my husband) took the phone call in the lobby. It was our daughter telling him to immediately call a friend's daughter. His friend, Christine Calloway, a former employee, had been my husband's driver for several years until her husband, Tim, became ill and died from a rare disease. Christine had quit working to take care of him. Christine and Robert developed a very special relationship when they worked together. He became a son to her and for Robert, Christine was his 2nd mother. Christine never recovered from her broken heart after Tim died. And quite frankly, that is what we think she died of, a broken heart. Her daughter tells my husband that she and her brother found Christine in her bed, still in her night clothes. She died in her sleep.

The entire ride home, Robert and I were in shock, saying all the things in between tears, laughter and sadness that one says after learning of such devastating news. We couldn't believe it, this was so unexpected, so quick, we never got to say goodbye. How could we accept her being gone? Little did we know that this was the beginning of a very bad evening. Bad can become worse sometimes and it did. Shortly after we arrived home, the phone rang. It's true what they say; when the phone rings at one in the morning it is never good news. It was my mother on the other end. My 82 year old father and 70-something-year-old mother decided they were fit and sprite enough to trek across the country and into Mexico. My dad, as always, would do the solo driving as my mother does not drive. This is quite a task for an 82 with a failing memory, severe diabetes and high blood pressure. They had made it as far as Waco Texas, and now my worst possible fear had become reality. My mother tells me that my father is missing, and that he has been missing for five hours already! What?!!? How can that be? What do you mean missing? How did this happen? Already with a sad heart, I am now terrified. My husband, next to me, listens on with an equally mortified look on his face. Our blood has now dropped to our feet, the room is spinning and we are stuck in the centrifuge of a nightmare. My mother tells me a police officer is with her, and his colleagues have checked hospitals, the morgue, jails..., anywhere he may possibly be but he is no where. We know he is somewhere, but where? In a strange twist, the police officer tells my mother that the police had pulled him over earlier; he had been driving the wrong way on a country road. I now picture every awful, terrorizing scenario that can befall an 82 year old elderly man; he is in a ditch, he is bound in some bad person's trunk, he is slumped over the steering wheel of his vehicle, he is dead. Wherever he is, I know he is in trouble and needs help. My mother and the kind City of Waco police officer tell me they will call back and give updates.

My husband is distraught, first Christine and now my father. He is also battling a virus. I tell him to go to bed and get some rest before he gets sicker, I will keep vigil. The clock ticks away the seconds, the minutes, the hours my father is missing. I keep busy, doing laundry, praying, washing dishes, praying, folding laundry, praying, tidying up, praying, praying, praying. I send a note to a friend who is connected with the IHMs (Immaculate Heart of Mary Sisters) asking for prayer. I begin to pray the rosary, but fall asleep. My dear friend, Heather, told me once that when one falls asleep in prayer the angels finish them for you. Thank you angels, but can you please find my father and protect him? I also send a note to my dad's favorite godson. He has a sister, my childhood friend, in the television business; perhaps she has a T.V. news connection in Waco. Sometime early Wednesday morning, the phone rang. It was that sweet police officer who has watched over my mother throughout this ordeal. My father has been found. We do not know the details, but he is okay although a bit confused and disoriented. His blood sugar level dropped. Diabetes is a wicked disease affecting body, mind and affect. But Waco is full of angels and good Samaritans.

My mother wanted to stretch her legs and walk; there was a hamburger place three blocks away. She told my father she would walk there while he rested and pick up their dinner. My father felt she had been gone too long, so he set out to look for her. Past dinner, his blood sugar began to dip to dangerously low levels. He became confused and drove into a field of high prairie Texan grass and became stuck in mud. He got out of the vehicle and began to walk when he fell. He knew that he could be hit by a car in middle of a country road with poor lighting so he dragged himself to the end of the road. At that time, it just so happened that a man who owns a party store a couple of blocks down the road was driving by. He saw him, stopped the vehicle and asked him what had happened. My father told him he was diabetic and had fallen and was too weak to get himself up. The man helped him up and took him to his store where he gave him a sugary soda and called an ambulance. Since the moment my mother reported my father missing kindness from strangers has abound. Everyone coming in contact with them has been kind and generous in words and in deeds. My mother has not been alone. From the Days Inn hotel manager to the City of Waco police department to the party store owner to the hospital staff....all have welcomed these weary and troubled travelers! My father is hospitalized and my brother is on his way to pick them up and bring them home.

We understand we have been tremendously fortunate. The outcome could have been tragic. Now I have been given an insight not experienced before. I know the anguish experienced by family members when a loved one goes missing. Those first few hours are agonizing, nothing compares to it. I found myself in between sobs and hope, in between despair and prayer. From now on, I will say special prayers for those who are searching for their lost loved ones and I will remember to treat strangers with the same kindness afforded to my parents.