Better And Better

If you don't draw yours, I won't draw mine. A police officer, working in the small town that he lives in, focusing on family and shooting and coffee, and occasionally putting some people in jail.

Thursday, May 06, 2010

Don't forget to live.

A friend asked me recently why life was worth living. I told my friend, quite honestly, that it gives us the opportunity to love, and be loved.
_ _ _ _
On May 5, 1995, my best friend's little sister, Tina Minke, lost her life.

She was crossing the same railroad crossing that her brother Scott and I had crossed hundreds of times together while going to school or pretty much anywhere. The crossing had no crossing guards, and the brush along the tracks was so grown up around the crossing that you couldn't see a train coming until you had driven to the top of the steep incline at the tracks crossing. As the road there was gravel and dirt, one would spin one's wheels trying to take off again if one had stopped just short of the apex of the hill, at the tracks. So it was that we routinely would play a risky game of rolling up to the top of the crossing, glancing back and forth quickly, and then proceeding across without ever stopping. There was not a stop sign present, and it was inconvenient to stop simply for safety's sake. Tina lost that little game that the rest of us had played, and her little car was struck.

Her body was virtually unscathed, but "virtually" just means "not quite." Her neck was snapped to the side, instantly cutting her brain stem internally. Although she was CareFlighted to a quality hospital quickly, she was pronounced brain dead.

Tina had wanted to be a surgeon. She had been working through high school as a nurse's aide. She had a couple of scholarships waiting for her at Texas A&M, where she planned to go Pre-Med. As an honor student, no one doubted that she would be successful. She was driven. She was 18. She had just 4 weeks of high school left.

I didn't go to the hospital to see off the only sister that I had ever known. I knew that her family had many, many friends, almost all of whom would be converging on her house. I called in sick (trust me: I was physically ill) and went to her house, where I had spent about half of my life in my teens.

The house was empty. The family was saying their goodbyes at the hospital.

Like many of us, this was a disaster that occurred right in the middle of everything. May is a busy time in any high-school senior's household, and the Minkes ran a business out of their house. Despite the fact that Tina's mother Donna is a well-known neat freak, the house was in the same bit of disorder that 99% of our houses are, when we're not expecting company. And company was coming. I knew that this would be one more stressor to Donna.

I let myself in and started work. I started working the phone, which was ringing off the wall. Literally hundreds of people called from the community and from surrounding states, offering help. Each person, I genuinely believe, would have moved Heaven and earth if I could have given them a part of the task to do. For the mean time, I and others who showed up set up a schedule for them to come by. They all wanted to bring food.

I started mowing the lawn, then passed if off to a neighbor who insisted. Others showed up, and started cleaning, doing laundry, and such.

I can't convey how much love flowed from these people, these friends of my extended family. They loved the Minkes, and they loved Tina. We who were present worked together in a frenzy, not because the house looked bad (it actually looked great in about 30 minutes), but because it gave us something to do. I resolved to let no phone call be left unanswered, especially when I realized that it was Tina's voice on the answering machine. This meant juggling a lot of Call Waiting beeps.

My father got through. "Son," he said, "Call the Minkes. Make sure that they're not lingering around the parking lot of the hospital. There's a really ugly storm doing bad things there in Fort Worth. It's bad."

I called them. They were just leaving. I begged them not to go. They left anyway, just missing an enormous hailstorm that injured several people in that very parking lot. Softball-sized hail, it was reported. The Minkes made it home. That night, one of the worst thunderstorms that I've ever seen railed. It seemed like the end of days. It felt appropriate.

The next morning, a local gravel merchant, unbidden, arrived with gravel trucks and paved the Minkes' hundred-yard long dirt driveway with gravel and Flex Base. The storm had softened the driveway so that only quality 4X4 trucks could have made the ascent to the house, otherwise. Now, visitors could come pay their respects without getting stuck. (You may be sure that this would have weighed heavily on the Minkes, too.)

I've never seen such an outpouring of... ham.

For whatever reason, North Texas folk bring ham when a friend passes away. Smoked ham. Spiral-cut honey ham. Picnic ham. Boned and boneless ham. Whole and pressed ham. Sliced and otherwise. Boiled ham. Lunchmeat ham. We started freezing it. We started asking next door neighbors to freeze it. Then we started sending it home with visitors. If there wasn't 200 lbs of ham there, I'll kiss your butt... right on the ham of your choosing.

It turned out that Tina had signed up as an organ donor. Her parents were a little iffy on the whole thing, at first. It's hard to think of your daughter, whose shell is right there in front of you, breathing with the assistance of a machine, having her organs harvested and distributed to other people.

But they did just that, and have NEVER regretted it for an instant.

I've met the recipients of several Tina's organs. I've met the recipient of her liver. I've met the recipient of her heart. Her kidneys were used. Her blood was used. Her eyes were used. Tina led a clean living, and was healthy. She never got to be a surgeon, but she got to save a few lives with her 18 year-old organs. Parts of her live on, literally.
_ _ _

The funeral was emotional, and I left with a rose from her graveside. Crossing the fatal railroad crossing a half hour later, I placed the rose on the tracks. No one saw me.

But a few minutes later, a photographer saw the rose, and he published this picture of the same rose in the paper.

It had been a perfect rose, even if it had been picked just a little too early.

I miss my friend, and family member, who died 15 years ago yesterday.

Tina Marie Minke
November 24, 1976 - May 5, 1995

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At Friday, May 07, 2010 12:24:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

That brought tears to my eyes.

At Friday, May 07, 2010 1:53:00 AM, Blogger Unknown said...

Thank you, Matt, for your story, your was truely a painful day for me and my x-husband, Mike, who received Tina's liver. That day changed me forever and I sometimes feel I'm the one that received her gift. She is still in my daily thoughts, she talks to me & I to her. I did not know her in this world ...but I feel that she is a part of me & my life and someday I will be overjoyed to meet her and give her a big hug. Sandy Moreno

At Friday, May 07, 2010 3:08:00 AM, Blogger John B said...

Thanks Matt, I lost my love this past Monday. If it wasn't for the outpouring of love and support from unexpected sources, I might not persevere to raise out son.

At Friday, May 07, 2010 9:57:00 AM, Blogger JPG said...

Gotta be some mistake. There's no way it can be FIFTEEN YEARS since that happened.

Yes, the entire family was well-loved, and everyone wanted to do SOMETHING to help. About the only thing I could think to do was - -

I was a deputy sheriff, a sergeant, back then. Word was out that some homes in the area had been burgled while bereaved families were at funerals. I talked to the parol captain to arrange for security at the Minke's home and told him to let me know how much overtime pay would be due a deputy or two. The sheriff later stopped me in the hall and asked about the extra duty detail. I assured him that I'd cover the cost, and he said not to worry about it.

I went to the house before the funeral. One deputy was already there and another was on the way. I asked if there was anything they needed and was told that every single person he met there had insisted that any officer should help himself to the abundance of food and gallons of iced tea, coffee, soft drinks . . .

I went on to the funeral. The graveside service at the little cemetery, out on a windswept prairie hilltop - - it was just as sad and as glorious as you might expect. Donna and Terry and Tina's brothers were naturally total wrecks, but gracious beyond belief. Terry mentioned to me that he'd heard how Matt had organized things around the house while they were gone, on that first wretched day.

This all recalls a very sad time, a lovely girl tae soon departed. But also memories of family and community strength.

At Friday, May 07, 2010 11:56:00 AM, Blogger George said...

And to mine. A beautiful tribute and well worth re-posting in the future.


At Friday, May 07, 2010 3:38:00 PM, Anonymous Michael said...

Wonderfully written. Thank you for sharing.

At Friday, May 07, 2010 3:46:00 PM, Blogger Matt G said...

"That brought tears to my eyes."

And to mine, as I typed.

At Sunday, May 09, 2010 12:53:00 AM, Anonymous Dave said...

A little over a year ago, my closest cousin died. He was a year younger than me. Against tremendous pressure, his mother allowed his eyes and skin to be transplanted. I had the honor of carrying his body to rest next to his father's. This past week, my mother needed serious surgery. Everything went well. I'm sorry for you and your friends. I'm thankful for such gifts.

At Monday, May 10, 2010 1:35:00 PM, Blogger Jay G said...

Matt, that was beautiful. Both what you did and how you describe it.

And, not for nothing, but Tina's the same age as my little sister.


At Monday, May 17, 2010 4:35:00 AM, Blogger KD5NRH said...

She was just a few months younger than me. I'm not even sure I remember what I wanted to be at that point in my life.

On a side note, it always seems to be brisket and pie here. Ham from some folks, but I guess we have more of a beef surplus, women who bake to comfort themselves, and men who barbecue to stay out of the way of the women.

At Monday, May 17, 2010 3:16:00 PM, Blogger Matt G said...

I suspect that a lot of the reason for it being ham was that, in May, Ham goes on sale due to the surplus from last year's slaughter, with new pork coming in, and Memorial Day coming up. I don't see it on sale in May now as much as I did then. Maybe also it has to do with when Easter fell, when ham ALWAYS goes on sale. People want to comfort, and will offer anything, but a bargain's a bargain.

At Thursday, May 20, 2010 7:59:00 AM, Blogger J.R.Shirley said...

Sad and sweet. Sorry for your loss, but glad you have the memories. And that you could help. Men need to be needed.

At Monday, June 15, 2020 12:56:00 AM, Blogger MommiDonni said...

I just watched her story on the old show Its a Miracle. They have it to stream on Amazon Prime. Her story touched me. I hope all the recipients of her organs are still doing well and I pray her family is also. Thank you for sharing her story!


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