Somewhere Better

Out of a lot of trial and error; after dead-end, after dead-end, after dead-end, I finally found my childhood friend.

So, without further ado, here he lies, beneath a grave marker here in town, a cemetery now overrun with debris and anthills, although, you can't really tell by the photo. It's Sarasota Memorial Park, and the *photo is something I found on "Find a Grave".

Robert "Bobby" Spegal was a childhood friend of mine back in my elementary school days, and in fact, we lived in the same neighborhood. And although he rode his bike to school and I walked, because I lived a bit closer, he passed me everyday as we both headed to Southside Elementary, the school that we kids in the neighborhood all attended.

One sunny day back in the early 70s, Bobby passed me on his way home from school, and little did I know, that would be the last time I'd ever see him. In a flash, that sunny Florida day suddenly turned very dark.

I got home that day, did my homework and chores, and then headed over to another friend's house. 'Strange as it may sound, I rarely if ever told "Billy" when I was heading over; it was just a ritual to hang out after school until around dinner time. This time, this day, something unusual happened, though, as Billy came running up to me as I approached his house, sobbing and in tears. He was trying to find the words, which came out, "Bobby Spegal's dead!" I said, "Whaaat?" Repeats, "Bobby's Spegal's dead!".

That little exchange sticks in my head to this day, as if I just heard it yesterday, despite that this was nearly four and a half decades ago.

Bobby, who rode East on Tuttle Ave., was passing in front of Billy's house, just as he did every day, but this time he would not make it home.

By the time I got to Billy's house, the ambulance had left with our school mate's lifeless, mangled body in the back. I know his body was mangled, since the other kids who came running up upon the gruesome scene had reported about it the next day. Billy didn't see Bobby's lifeless body because his mom understandably kept him in the yard during the whole ordeal. A retired Air Force officer was pulled over and detained, charged with DUI, and later on, charged with vehicular manslaughter. The man was 68 yrs old at the time, so I assume he died serving his 25 yrs without parole.

To set up the scene, Bobby was not on the right of way, but instead, riding against traffic on the sidewalk, which was about 6 or 7 feet away from Webber St., the street on which Bobby rode home every day. The driver, who was elderly, at least in comparison, was heading West on Webber, and he veered off and hit Bobby head on. While I never got the actual speed of the drunken man's vehicle, my guess, now, is that it was double the speed limit, since Bobby was hit so hard that his shoes never left the point of impact. He was literally knocked out of his shoes like something you'd see on a Saturday morning cartoon.

Bobby ended up in the bushes about a one street block away, my guess is about 30-40 yards from the point of impact. Killed instantly, of course. Nine years old. Seen 45 minutes earlier, now, gone forever.

Being nine years old, myself, I couldn't fathom what had just happened. It just didn't compute. I blocked the rest of the day out, and I couldn't even begin to tell anyone what sort of comfort or consoling was offered to me later that evening when my parents got wind of the horrendous incident.

As I grew up, I found that I could not just sweep the "why" part under the carpet. It's natural to want to know why bad things, despicably bad things, happen. The explanation I would get from my devout Christian, maternal grandparents was that Bobby was in a "better place". He was "in Heaven", presumably "at peace"



So, I tried this "A better place" stuff, because I was desperate for answers.

My initial reaction was, "Really?"....a better place??? Somewhere "better" than with his mother, the person who carried him in her womb for 9 months?? Somewhere "better" than playing catch with his Dad? Somewhere "better" than playing fetch with his dog? Somewhere "better" than watching TV with his siblings? Somewhere "better" than visiting his grandparents? Somewhere "better" than with his school mates? Oh, really?

I didn't buy it as a teenager, and needless to say, I don't buy it now. Christian explanations didn't make sense to me, even as a child, let alone, as an adult. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with attempting to buffer the harshness of reality. We're only human, and it's human nature to seek to minimize suffering, even if that means not being completely truthful with ourselves. The problem is not that I won't lie to myself; the problem is that I can't.

RIP Bobby.

Addendum:

My initial search wasn't to find my friend's grave site, but to find a living relative(if any)..e.g..mom, dad, siblings, etc., just to let them know that at least one of his former classmates hadn't forgotten him.