Kevin and I escaped with some friends from church to go to Symphony on the Prairie. The music was “That’s Amore!”—basically a bunch of eclectic Italian stuff, everything from Opera to Italian-American movie themes. There was this incredible tenor there whose voice and personality were magnetic. At the end of the evening, he sang an encore of O Sole Mio. It was electrifying.
The only thing that would have made the evening more perfect is if I had brought a big plate of spaghetti with a huge meatball on top.
The joy of the evening was contrasted with terror, experienced in the car as we drove to Symphony on the Prairie. As we drove on a curvy road, a motorcyclist going in the opposite direction hit the center divider. We watched, as if in slow motion, as his motorcycle flew into the air and the body of the man riding it spun through the air and landed in front of oncoming traffic. We were the third car back. The car in front slammed on its brakes and stopped within inches of where the motorcyclist’s body lay.
I have never witnessed anything so frightening in all my life. The motorcycle was in pieces and I was sure that the man had been killed on impact. Other drivers got to the scene first. Kevin got out of the car to pick up the motorcycle debris. We waited for paramedics and police and then Kevin filled out an eyewitness report. We cannot even believe that the man riding the motorcycle survived. It was an incredible reminder of the frailty of life. And, some of us might argue, the reason we will never let our husbands get a motorcycle.