perspective

How many times have you got upset because something “terrible” happened? The washing machine broke, you discovered a ding in your car door, or you burned your morning toast? I have more times than I care to count. Since my last blog post my husband got a MRI for his back, our computer crashed, a cold snap came through busting water pipes, and I caught a bad sinus/chest cold that has lasted over a month. Each one of those seemed to bring with it its share of emotional responses. Then something happened that put all those minor inconveniences into perspective: the young man across the street shot his wife, then himself.

We did our share of grumbling about others in the neighborhood: incessantly barking dogs, loud parties and other seemingly insensitive behavior on the part of some neighbors. In many respects we had grown rather used to these occurrences, not because we had gained any perspective on their importance in our lives, but they were the usual. These noises just became a background track to our lives. We still noticed them, occasionally commented on them, and even let them get to us from time to time, but they were still the usual.

Ashley and Travis Kendall, with their infant son, seemed like any other 20-something couple moving into the rental house. But it looked like a bad omen when they were outside arguing the next day. Could it be the stress of moving, a new baby, or some other unknown factor in their lives? A couple days later we came home from a day of errands to see a neighbor walking down the sidewalk with a push broom. Odd. Nearby was a blue Acura that had obviously been rear ended. In front of the Kendall house was his pickup with a bashed up front. After talking to neighbors the story unfolded: Travis had rammed his wife’s car at the stop sign, not once but twice. Their infant son had endured “the accident” strapped in his car seat in the back seat of Ashley’s car. Amazingly no one was hurt.

To make a long story short, a few days later the Police and Social Services came but their intervention was short lived. Ashley was obviously in denial that she was in a domestic violence situation. The young family returned to the rental house. Travis’ family brought the rest of their possessions to them: a boat, furniture, including a baby bassinet, and other items. The insurance adjuster came and went, soon Ashley was driving a newer SUV. All seemed to be swept under the rug of denial and complicity. I called the “Women’s Safety and Resource Center” to get some advice on how I could somehow help Ashley if I ever got the chance to talk to her alone. But the opportunity never seemed to present itself. I became a bit obsessed with them, watching their home for any sign of violence, ready to call the police at any moment. But all seemed pretty quiet over there. Then in mid-October we were awakened by yelling. As we looked out Travis was leaving with a family member. Soon the police were at the house. We learned Travis had been arrested for domestic harassment and that Ashley had got a restraining order. For the next month we noticed that Travis and Ashley were never at the house at the same time. It looked like Ashley was finally getting Travis out of her life and we were glad. Then the unthinkable happened.

On the eve of November 17th, 2009, Ashley was at her attorney’s office when Travis hid in her SUV. As she was driving away, talking to her sister on her cell phone, she discovered he was in the vehicle. He shot her. He left her bleeding in the street and fled in her vehicle. An off-duty police chief spotted Ashley’s vehicle and gave chase. Travis sped to his grandparents’ home where shots were exchanged between him and the police chief. Travis ran around the side of the building and killed himself.

Ashley was flown to a Portland hospital. Incredibly she survived. She knows what happened to her and is now walking and talking. Many in town call it a miracle.

As this tragic story of Ashley and Travis unfolded we felt the full range of emotions: shock, sadness, anger, frustration, plus a smidgen of guilt. As a friend put it “It feels like the community let them down.” It’s made us more aware of others in our small town who seem to be in potentially violent relationships. It’s also reminded us to what’s really important and how lucky we are. Day to day bumps in the road are minor inconveniences. When the computer crashed and we started to lament what information we had not bothered to back up, we reminded ourselves that one of us wasn’t fighting for our lives in a Portland ICU bed. When we felt miserable due to injury and illness, we reminded ourselves that we weren’t having a vein removed from our leg and placed in our arm so it would not be amputated. When we saw water pouring out the front door of our office space due to a broken water pipe, we reminded ourselves that this too shall pass. We were, and are, reminded to have perspective.

I wish you the best in 2010.