Today’s column is about a tragic death which occurred when drug abuse is mixed with the explosive power of a pistol.
Meet Zoey and Anna, two girls who are BFFs — best friends forever. Let’s meet their families.
Zoey has two parents, Tom and Tess. Tom is a diesel mechanic and Tess is a nurse. Tom is teaching Zoey how to shoot her 22, single shot, cricket rifle. Zoey treasures every second with her father. Habits deeply connect her family such as: meals are always at the dinner table, no television while eating. Her parents drink wine during meals, but do not use drugs such as tobacco or pills.
Anna is being raised by her mother, Vicki. Her parents divorced when she was two, and she has little contact with her father. Vicki is a claims adjuster, whose job requires her to travel, sometimes three to five days at a time. In her absence, Mary, the housekeeper, takes care of Anna.
Anna’s mother has frequent dinner guests, and her basement wine cellar is well stocked. Vicki smokes cigarettes and takes prescription medications for life-long struggles with depression, anxiety and insomnia.
Let’s watch Anna and Zoey as they grow up:
Age 11: Zoey is sleeping over at Anna’s house, when Anna whispers, “Let’s go outside.” Hidden by bushes, Anna takes out a cigarette and lights it. “Try it, Zoey.” Zoey tries it, but ends up coughing. Anna teaches Zoey how to inhale, and 10 puffs later, Zoey feels more alive than ever. While still outside, Anna tells Zoey to stay put. Anna leaves and returns with a bottle of wine. Zoey gulps down her first glass.
Age 13: Anna hands Zoey a marijuana cigarette. “Try it.” Both girls get high. “Zoey, I’ve got to show you something.” Anna leads Zoey into her mother’s wine cellar, reaches up on a shelf, and removes a silver pistol. “Anna, put it down.” “Cool it Zoey, it’s not loaded.” “Put it away, Anna, or I’m leaving.”
Age 15: Zoey is over at Anna’s, when Anna’s boyfriend, Zack, comes over. They all go outside to smoke pot, when Anna opens her palm, revealing three blue pills. Zack and Anna swallow theirs. Zoey refuses. One hour later, Zoey hears Anna’s screams. Zoey races into the wine cellar and sees Anna, pointing the pistol at Zack. Anna’s blouse is ripped, she is in a rage. Zack lunges at Anna, and BOOM!
The forest is still, the last whispers of wind have died down, and the setting sun squats like a ripe tomato upon the throne of the western horizon. Zoey and her dad, tired from hours of walking in the woods hunting for mushrooms, sit down on a fallen tree.
Eyes fixed on the sunset, Zoey offers her father a bite of her granola bar. Surprised, he puts his hand on her forehead and checks for a fever. As Zoey’s eyes flood with tears, she says, “I thought growing up was about trying new things, right?” Her father hugs her and says, “I was just teasing Zoey. But, I’m still shook up, you might have died.” “How could I have been so stupid, Dad?”
“Zoey, how do you learn about life? You learn by living and experiencing it.” Her father takes out a small notepad and draws a fish. “When you were five, I’d give you outlines like this, and ask you to color the fish with your crayons and stay in the lines. You’d color within the lines I drew, but if your hand slipped or, if you got real frustrated, you’d scribble outside the lines, and you couldn’t erase it.”
“Zoey, the difference between a child and an adult is that adults know the rules of life. They get to sketch out their lives using a pencil with an eraser. If they make a mistake, they can go back, fix it, and no one knows. Children, however, draw with crayons and can’t erase their mistakes. Everything a child does is done for the very first time — like riding a bike — a process of trial and error. Here lies the real danger of childhood: What if no one draws the boundary lines for a child? Anna had no boundaries to guide her, to keep her coloring within the lines. Not you Zoey. You are beating yourself up for trying drugs. But you drew the line on prescription pills. That saved you, and that’s why I’m so proud of you.”
“No, Daddy. The reason I’m alive is my secret weapon.” Confused, her father asks, “What weapon?”
“My secret weapon is a father who never stopped loving me.”
Conclusion: About half of all homes in America have a gun. Only 50% of these guns are locked up.
The content of this article is for educational purposes only, and should not be used as a substitute for treatment by a professional. The characters in this story are not real. Names and details have been changed to protect confidentiality.
Dr. Richard Elghammer contributes his column each week to the Journal Review.
