Playing Dead

Oh, the miles I would walk. As an adolescent in a small town, the pickins' were often slim for friends. Quite often, I walked or rode my bicycle about 10 miles just to spend the day with a friend that lived north of New Windsor, Illinois.

I remember one time thinking that if I walked across the fields I would be able to cut off a significant amount of time. So the first thing I did was fix the Alpha water tower in my sights and headed directly for it. Having never taken such an adventure before, I didn't consider what might lie ahead: hills, obstacles, and animals. I remember getting about two miles into this trek when I had to cross a fence into a pasture. Doing so didn't scare me because the fence was at the bottom of a hill and I couldn't see the bull on the other side. Of course, my perspective changed quite rapidly when I topped the hill and saw the biggest, meanest looking bull in the whole world. The fact that New Windsor, Illinois is home of the Henry County Fair which is home of one of the country's most respected rodeos didn't help. Immediate thoughts of being mauled by a beast who was still holding a grudge against a clown quickened my pace to the adjoining fence which I hoped would at least slow the bull down if he chased me.

Fortunately for the sake of my wife and the existence of our children and grandchildren, the bull was facing east as I hurried west. He didn't even know I was in the neighborhood: no snort, no pawing up dust, not even a flick of the tail. Nothing.

Fixing my sights on the Alpha water tower again, I plodded on toward the home country, but not across the fields. Rather, I decided my shortcut wasn't worth the risk and went back to the highway. It was my habit on these trips to stop every other mile or so and lay down in the ditch and act dead. I'd done this on several occasions to no avail. Either people didn't see me or they didn't care that a dead 12 year old boy was rotting along the roadside. Either way, being left for dead didn't help my self-esteem anymore than being ignored by an angry bull.

By the time I got back to Alpha, I was thirsty, tired and feeling lower than a snakes belly for having been ignored by passing motorists. I made this and other multi-mile trips on foot many times. I even made several trips to Galesburg, which according to Mapquest.com is 18 miles one way. No one stopped to check out the dead boy then either.

I feel much better about myself now. I'm older, highly educated, well respected in my community and in my profession, and I don't feel the need to garner attention by playing dead in the ditches. Besides, if I played dead in the ditches now, people might take me too serious and call the authorties. "911. What's your emergency?" "Uh, yeah. I think there's a dead guy in the ditch. I mean he's all wrinkly and just laying there." The next day's headline: Local Pastor Plays Dead. Says He is Imitating His Congregation." That wouldn't go over very well.