My Coming of Age Story

On January 31, 1965, our family was involved in a serious motor vehicle accident that for me, ended a carefree childhood and brought awareness of the risks that life can bring. 

December 1964- Getting a Christmas tree- This was our Ford Falcon that was in the crash

My 10th birthday was on Saturday, January 30, 1965. Mom allowed me to invite one friend for dinner and we had chocolate birthday cake for dessert. The next morning, we prepared to go to church as usual. I sat in the backseat of the Ford Falcon with three of my brothers, Mom held 3-month-old Stephen in her arms in the front passenger seat, and Dad was driving. The car was not equipped with seatbelts and was, from a safety standpoint, about as safe as a tin can. Old Cummer, a narrow, winding road at the end of our street in Toronto, was a shortcut to the major streets that we took to church. Dad noticed a car driving quickly toward us on the wrong side of the road and pulled over onto the shoulder of a curve and stopped. The oncoming car hit us head-on. I awoke to see Dad standing outside with his upper jaw smashed and bloody. Mom hit the windshield hard, shattering it and causing severe lacerations to her face and eyes. She was covered in blood. I remember ambulances, the hospital, and fear. My brothers and I suffered concussions and bruises, but were not seriously injured. Mom and Dad were hospitalized and had extensive surgeries for their injuries. I remember Grandma and various women from the church taking turn caring for the five of us at home. When Mom and Dad came home, their faces were almost unrecognizable. They were 33 years old and had scars that lasted a lifetime. 

Ontario did not have public health insurance until July 1, 1966. My parents were responsible for their medical bills and I know our extended family helped them in the short term. There was a court case and settlement five years later, but the financial insecurity in the interim was significant. Mom had surgery every year for the next five years, and her health was affected as a result of her injuries throughout her lifetime. Dad had facial reconstruction but suffered from chronic sinus infections for years. 

I had increased responsibility for the care of my two youngest brothers who were both under the age of two, not that I minded looking after them at all! I learned how to work in the kitchen and helped mom with cleaning and laundry. My life remained safe, secure and predictable as I went to school and spent time with friends and extended family. I became confident and more capable as my assistance was needed and appreciated in the household. 

High Park, Toronto, July 1965. Mom was still recovering from her facial injuries and eye damage.
Nathan, Aunt Joan, Philip, Sandra, Linda, Mark, Grandma, Stephen, Mom, Ruth

Mom and Dad changed. I recognize now how a head injury, chronic pain and financial worries took a toll on Dad's emotional health. He was more irritable and anxious, and as I entered adolescence, Dad and I had our conflicts. Dad suffered from untreated depression for many years. Mom also coped with chronic pain but became the negotiator for peace in the household. The last half of the 1960s was a time of great political and cultural change and the post-war Baby Boomer generation changed social norms very quickly. This caused my parents to become more strict with us at the time my oldest brother and I were teenagers. I am glad that I was allowed the freedom to choose my career path and my parents did encourage us to be independent. My younger brothers had very different experiences growing up than I did. I see "the accident" as a watershed event in our family that divided the siblings into two different sets of children.

My parents were resilient and stoic in their suffering, perhaps too stoic at times. Depression and anxiety were considered to be signs of weakness, and compassionate mental health care was uncommon. My family was loving, and my childhood did not include abuse or parental neglect, but I recognize how any adverse event can have a lasting impact on a family unit. I wish we had been able to discuss these things with Mom and Dad earlier. 

There is a theory that states that violence and unrest are cyclical with America experiencing social and racial upheaval every 50 years. The late 1960s and early 1970s were a time of violence and social change related to the Vietnam war and the Civil Rights movement. The Middle East was a hot mess and political assassinations were too common. The world has never been a place of peace. Fifty years later, protests against racial and gender inequality, systemic abuse and violence have escalated again. Children are coming of age in this generation when families are divided along political and ideological lines and fear and paranoia are rampant.

We cannot avoid all personal adverse events, nor can we control what is happening in the world. Our children are affected by our fears and insecurities and we must show them how to identify and overcome these emotions so they become resilient and functional adults. I enjoyed a relationship with my parents that grew in mutual respect and affection over the years, in spite of differences of opinion on some things. I can look back with compassion and understand why we had some conflicts. I am thankful for our supportive extended family who did all they could to help normalize our experience in a time of stress.

Postscript: Here is a comment from Aunt Ruth, Dad's youngest sister about that day, January 31, 1965.

"I shall NEVER forget that phone call!! We were notified on our way home from a weekend in the US …and headed straight to the hospital to see my unrecognizable brother and your Mom!! How they survived is a miracle in itself!"

Dad and I in 2012, Tepic, MX