I don't like the city. I grew up in the suburbs and my parents are from very small towns you've never heard of; they are located at least an hour away from somewhere you may have heard of. In fact, my dad grew up on a farm that didn't have electricity when he was born or running water until he was around 8 years old, this boggles my mind. But I spent my summers at the family farm in the wilderness and it's there where I feel most at home. When I feel anxious, or stressed or, alone, or lost, I head into the woods to heal. To quote John Muir - "And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul." I believe that if there is a god, everything you need to know about him will be found in the wild.

For as long as I can remember, I have been involved in the yearly family tradition that we call hunting season. My family has been hunting in the same area for roughly 100 years and owns a small log cabin in the middle of a government forest. Every fall we use white tail deer season as an excused to gather for 2 weeks and enjoy each other's company while freezing to death in the woods and pretending that we are some place tropical.

The itinerary for the season is always the same. There is a party with drinking and live music on Saturday night for all members of the camp and their families. We cram upwards of 25 people into a log cabin the size of the average master bedroom. With the temperature outside being close to freezing and 25 bodies with a wood stove burning inside you are never truly comfortable unless you stand in the doorway. The band consists of whoever has a guitar, fiddle, or mandolin in their hand and bluegrass is the preferred genre. I don't really follow bluegrass music but I have been playing guitar for 20 years and know how to play G, C, and D so I can play the entire repertoire without an issue. After the party we go to sleep which features an extra-long night extended by an hour thanks to the end of daylight savings time and wake up for church the next morning. I am not religious and consider myself agnostic but I am one of the only ones willing (or maybe sober enough) to take my guitar to church to play. After that we have a meeting at the camp to decide tactics for early Monday morning and then off we go to get our gear ready and catch some sleep.

None of this is important to this story but it did take place on the way to church the morning after the party a years ago.

If you're a musician, you'll know that all rehearsals for anything take place 20 minutes before curtain and with only one run through regardless of how bad it sounds, this is just the way it is. So, around 45 minutes prior to the start of mass I put on my orange hunting jacket (hunters mass tradition) and loaded my guitar into the vehicle to head to the church for rehearsal. My wife Sarah decided to come with me that morning just for the company.

The church is a beautiful wooden masterpiece built on the side of a river five minutes down the highway. I don't remember what we were talking about but spirits were high and it was a nice morning.

We had hardly left the driveway when we crested a hill and could see a car in front of us off the road. The road we were on came to an intersection with the main highway which ran left to right in front of us. The highway was built up with exaggerated ditches you expect to find on country roads and the car was facing to the left before the highway with the front buried into the embankment that made up the right side of the road we were on. You could tell that the impact with the embankment was hard because the entire front of the car ahead the passenger compartment was bent up on an angle and the A pillar was slightly crushed in. I could see a head moving in the driver's seat.

A vehicle was parked in the same direction as us at the stop sign for the highway and two males were standing in the middle of the road. A third vehicle was parked on the other side of the highway.

I studied the scene in quiet silence as we pulled up and off the road to investigate. Sarah showed her nerves.

I got out of the vehicle and walked towards the car. I looked up to the roadway at the two males standing there, "What's going on guys?".

One of them answered, "Not much, this guy just came down the road at about 120 and crossed the highway into oncoming and then went off into the ditch. I was here at the stop sign and had to floor it to get out of the way. I don't know how he missed the rock cut there." he pointed to a small rock cut that made up the wall of the ditch about 80 feet down the road, "lucky for me the ditch is deep".

"Is there anyone else involved?" I asked.

"No," the other male answered, "I was driving by and saw what was going on so I pulled over."

"Okay good," I replied, "have you called 911?"

"Yeah, I called about 5 minutes ago" the first male answered.

"Do you know him?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's Don. I think he lives down at White Lake." the first male answered.

"Do you know anything about him?" I asked.

"No, not really" he replied.

I walked down into the ditch to the driver side door to make contact with Don. I could see light white smoke rising from the engine compartment and the car smelled hot. The hood had crumpled back and exposed the components of the engine compartment. It was an older vehicle but new enough to have airbags. In the driver seat sat an old man with a confused look on his face. His nose and lips were bleeding and blood covered the deflated airbag hanging from the steering wheel In front of him. The entire passenger compartment smelled of smoke from the airbags.

"How are you today?" I asked.

"Ohhh, not so bad, and you?" he replied with a thick country accent.

"I'm doing okay thanks," I said, "my name is Rex, are you Don?"

"Yeah, how did you know my name?" he answered looking confused.

"Someone told me that they thought it was you." I told him, "Don, do you know what's going on right now? Do you know why I'm talking to you?"

"Well, I'm not really sure," he confessed, "my car isn't really working right now."

"Yeah Don, you've been in an accident. Your car is in a ditch." I said as his eyes got wide for a second but then dismissed me, "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"I don't mind, you seem nice enough." he replied as he tried to remember my name, "Was it Rex?"

"Yes sir, Rex. Don, do you have any pain anywhere?" I asked.

"Yes actually, my legs hurt and my chest really hurts right now." he thought about it for a second, "my head hurts too."

"What about your neck? Does it hurt if I touch you here?" I asked as I squeezed around the back of his neck and shoulders and then down the spine.

"No, it feels fine really." he replied.

"Okay, do you have any allergies?" I asked.

"No?" he replied.

"Are you on any medications?" I asked.

"Yes, I am on blood thinners and Metformin" he replied.

"You're diabetic?" I asked, "When's the last time you ate?"

"I don't really remember" he said thinking about it, "I'm hungry right now though."

"You said your chest is sore, do you have any heart problems? Have you had a heart attack before? What does the pain feel like?" I asked trying to get an idea of what I thought might be wrong.

"I had a heart attack about, maybe 8 years ago now? I can't really remember to be honest. It didn't feel like this though. It hurts more in my shoulders." he spoke with animation as I could see him trying desperately to remember anything as his reality was foggy at that moment.

"Okay Don, just try to stay still and take some deep breaths. There will be an ambulance here soon for you." I reassured him.

"An ambulance?" he said looking confused again but his fears faded again as he forgot his situation.

I turned my attention to the passenger compartment. It was messy and had lots of things on the floor. Card board and paper bags full of garbage, books, coffee cups and broken glass. I saw a pair of glasses laying on the back seat with the arms open.

"Don, do you where glasses?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure where they are." he scoffed.

I reached in and grabbed them through the broken back window and put them on his face.

"Thanks, I can't drive without my glasses!" he said.

"No problem Don." I said as I continued to study the car.

It was early November and foot high dry dead grass grew thick in the ditch. I suddenly thought about the possibility of fire. I determined that the threat was low but that I had no way of controlling it if it did catch. I don't carry a fire extinguisher in the Jeep despite my lifestyle which is quite impressive really. I decided the best alternative would be to make him mobile in the event of a fire but to leave him where he was. The door was smashed in and wouldn't be able to be opened easily without tools. His seat belt was still fastened and he sat with his hands at ten and two as if waiting to pull out.

"Don, I'm going to cut your seat belt just to make it easier for you to get out later okay? I want you to stay right where you are though." I instructed.

"My seat belt?" he exclaimed "but I need that."

"I think it'll be fine." I said as I reached in and cut the webbing with my pocket knife which put up more of a fight than I expected "I think the damage to your car is worse."

He sat there and absorbed what I said without reacting.

I kept him company for a few more minutes as the volunteer fire rescue arrived one at a time in their personal vehicles ignoring us in the ditch. Just as odd as it sounds, they got out of the vehicles, donned their bunker gear, and then congregated in the roadway with the original motorists leaving Don and I down in the ditch. We talked about sports and restaurants we knew in the area to pass the time. He told me that he was a mechanic and had a small shop down the road. He of course didn't know it was down the road because he wasn't aware of where he was, but I knew it was down the road because of where he described it. He reminded me a bit of my grandfather who I had seen go through dementia. In a way it pained me to see Don this way but it was also nice to be with him and relieve those memories of talking with my grandfather about the way things used to be.

Soon enough the ambulance arrived and the paramedics came down to relieve me. I gave them all the information I had and they thanked me and said they would make sure he was taken care of. I wished him luck and told him it was nice to meet him and went back to Sarah who was relieved that she didn't have to witness anything she couldn't unsee. The fire fighters finally got to work opening the driver side door with a pry bar so that they could get him out and to the hospital.

I didn't get rehearsal that day and so I played quietly and unconfidently in the back of the church. My family seemed to know who Don was when I told them why I was late. From what I understand at the time he was living on his own at his White Lake property despite his declining health. He lived there for a few more years before moving into a retirement home. He is still around for now though he doesn't drive anymore.

What did I learn? - It always happens when you least expect it; I have never seen 3 cars at that intersection in my life, never mind on an early Sunday morning. Volunteer fire fighting response time is fairly quick and personal vehicles are used to get to the scene quickly.