Gene Hockenbury always tenses up when he hears of a bad auto accident, or about any tragedy, such as the Oklahoma City bombing or the attacks of 9/11, where he knows children will be left without parents.
Like many others, he happened to be part of the mass of traffic that was stuck, two weeks ago today, near the Point of the Mountain, waiting for helicopters and emergency crews to clear a scene of unspeakable horror. The accident that day claimed the lives of a father, mother and four of their nine children, all on vacation from Richland, Wash., and all riding in a motor home.
It made his heart race.
Gene knows. He understands more than just about anyone else ever could what lies ahead for the children who survived. He knows because nearly 47 years ago, May 26, 1957, to be exact, he was a helpless 11-year-old boy struggling to escape the bloody carnage of his own family's car, which lay near a bridge in Illinois like a crumpled and discarded piece of paper.
He lost his parents and a younger sister that day. All these years later, he's still struggling to get out of that car alive.
I've had the privilege of living around the corner from Gene for more than a decade now. It would be difficult to find a friend with a bigger heart, but it is a heart that has been through tons of anguish. And it's impossible to really get to know Gene without getting to know what happened at that bridge.
Gene has written all of it, the accident, his struggles and his long and ongoing road to recovery, in a book he recently published under the title "Crossing Bridges" (1st Books publishing, www.1stbooks.com). But my intent here isn't just to plug a book written by a friend. It is to convey the message of that book, and that friend, for people who go through such tragedies. That is a message of hope.
Gene will never get over what happened. But he has learned how to live again and how to help others live.
"I've often said to myself, I'll never put myself in a position where I'll have to get back into that car," he told me. "And yet, sitting down and writing this (book) was symbolically like getting back in. It was hard."
Hard, but worth it.
He hadn't allowed himself the time to remember the details, but now it all came back. The screams, the smells, the sight of his sister covered in blood and the screams of his brother, "Help me, Gene!" Of this, he writes, "I can still hear his voice echoing through the canyons of my mind. The powerlessness, helplessness and hopelessness I felt at that instant became my master for years to come."
In 1957, no one thought much about counseling or support groups or therapy for little children. Gene didn't even know his mother had died until an uncle took him aside a week or so later and asked if he wanted to see pictures of the funeral. He didn't know his father died until an aunt returned from a visit to the hospital one day and told him. Gene ended up being shipped to California to live with his aunt, separated from his other surviving siblings. There he encountered a teenage cousin who was mentally ill. His aunt would scream at him that, "You've driven her crazy!" A bad situation kept getting worse.
He struggled with feelings of guilt. (He was the one who had asked his father if they could drive to Grandpa's that day. He should have told his dad to slow down.) He felt anger, resentment, humiliation, frustration, loneliness and worthlessness. He has, at various times, wanted to kill himself or to hurt other people.
And yet today, with the help of friends and professional therapists he wished he had known decades ago, he feels none of those things. He has come to look at May 26, 1957, as a sacred experience. He has chosen to no longer be a victim.
"I believe I survived that day because it was God's intention. He has a plan and mission for me," he said.
Today he helps a support group that works with drunken drivers www.duihope.org. He also lectures and teaches about trauma, tragedy and grief.
Several days ago, the survivors of the Mattila family, which were involved in that awful accident near the Point of the Mountain, met the media to thank Utahns for their help. The children who are left will be cared for by their church and their relatives, and they will receive counseling.
Chances are, they will have an easier time of it than Gene did, but it will be anything but easy. If Gene could teach them anything, it is to never give up hope that it will get better.
Clarification: In last week's column, I made it look as if Congress was considering a moratorium on Internet sales taxes. That's wrong. In fact, the moratorium would stop taxes on Internet connection fees only. In my opinion, both kinds of taxes would be bad, but there is a difference.
Jay Evensen is editor of the Deseret Morning News editorial page. E-mail: even@desnews.com