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Greetings.

Welcome to the launch of The South Dakota Standard! Tom Lawrence and I will bring you thoughts and ideas concerning issues pertinent to the health and well-being of our political culture. Feel free to let us know what you are thinking.

Why do I carry blankets in my car? Because of this story

Why do I carry blankets in my car? Because of this story

Because long ago I was the first person  to arrive at a collision between two cars on a two-lane highway.

Rain was falling and both cars were skewed across both lanes. One elderly man lay in the middle of my lane.

I stopped, activated my flashers, and got out of the car. I always carried blankets in my car because this is South Dakota; my car is usually stocked with winter survival gear and I hadn’t taken any of it out yet.

I grabbed several blankets from my back seat. Kneeling by the old man, I created a tent over his body with one blanket and shut both of us inside it. Almost immediately, I felt warmer.

Rain had pooled in the center of his chest and he was gasping.

Soon several cars had stopped and people began rushing around. I heard someone yell, “I’m a nurse,” as she knelt beside some of the bodies scattered in the road. I heard someone yell that they were going back to the nearest town to call for help (this was before cell phones).

One woman curled herself around the body of a baby lying in the road. “My grand-baby,” the old man kept saying, “My grandbaby. How is he?”

The woman hovering over the child looked at me and shook her head. The old man’s chest was crushed; he could barely breathe. “He’s fine,” I told the old man. “Someone has gone for help, and there is a woman holding the baby and keeping the rain off him.” I knew the man was unlikely to live; why should his last thought be of terrible news?

If I gave him hope, perhaps he would survive. He smiled and squeezed my hand and said, “Oh that’s good.” He gasped. “I’m so glad.” And then he died.

I carry blankets in my car for him.

© Linda M. Hasselstrom. Reprint with permission only. 

South Dakota rancher Linda M. Hasselstrom writes poetry and nonfiction. She is the winner of numerous awards. 

Photo: The everpresent blanket in my car, John Tsitrian

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