Dad made a mistake and it cost him his life. We had been estranged for years mainly because of his second marriage and that situation. On Thursday 27 June 1974 I met him outside in the yard of his cousin Buck's house as I was leaving and he was arriving. He was never one to discuss anything, it was only: he spoke-you listened! But this day we had a real discussion about our relationship, family and such and I'm so glad we did because on Saturday 29 June 1974 I closed his eyes in the ER of St Mary's Hospital and said goodbye. Later I went and looked at the truck with it's melted wheels/tires and took his helmet which I still have. I thank God for that meeting and discussion.
Dad was dumping gravel on the driveway of a new home. A state cop owned it and they were given "special favors" by companies to avoid situations. Drivers donated their time to avoid tickets. He was in a hurry because he had a frozen pizza business and he had to do his tavern route. The truck never touched the wires but it was close enough for the current to jump to it. The cop didn't attend the funeral but he went to the graveyard for those services although he stayed at the edge of the proceedings.
I have the weekly paper from Clifton as well as the Kankakee paper from this date. I use to have a huge stack of newspapers but over the years it has shrunk; from moving, a flooded basement and I gave some away.