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101214 AM - Alright, that's enough-already.
The popularity of this page is getting to be a little sickening to me. I know it
has to do with the kids in Guilford. A lot worse is going to happen to
this state in the near future. Four kids killed in a car will seem like a
hangnail when God Himself gets done with this evil state...
What you all doin looking at this page? This is my brother. Mine. Only.
(20101026; Curious about the sudden popularity of this page.)
James Lawrence Martin June 11, 1959- October 23, 1977
Milford, Corrupticut.
Jim and Frankie Kelley had gotten into the car only 5 minutes before the accident, having met the other boys at WaWa, near Gromart's (corner of Pond Point Ave and New Haven Ave, Milford, Corrupticut). They had walked to WaWa from Frankie's house. Jim did not have his driver's license, even though he was 18 at the time... This story is not only INCORRECT, but bizarre.Nancy and Carolyn Martin are insane fake Church Ladies, by the way, and Carolyn Martin not only beat the living sh*t out of her own children, she physically and verbally attacked and ruined my own children with her insane, jealous nonsense... it turns out.
Children who have the shit beaten and kicked out of them their whole lives, like my brother Jim, have no acquired or learned arrogance. That's why he was such a likable kid. He had no bad-ass 'tude, despite his enormous athletic talent.
He WAS a good kid. His parents hated him, but everyone else loved him. Perhaps that's why his parents hated him- the kid was a frickin scream. Evil, jealous, hateful people can't stand to see anyone else happy or successful.
Home -> News -> Content Saturday 17 May, 2003
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Editorial Page
Most painful memories teach strongest lessons
KATHLEEN M. SCHURMAN January 22, 2002
Once upon a time, about 24 years ago, there were five high school boys out driving around in a Volkswagen Thing.
Most of them were seniors - good-looking, well-liked, promising young men, with the world at their feet, a party around every corner, and a typical case of teenage invincibility. It also turned out that, like most kids their age, they had access to alcohol. Late that evening, while caught up in some heady senior-year giddiness, they drove down narrow Old Field Lane at a high rate of speed, hurtled over a stone wall, and smashed into a tree. None of them was wearing a seat belt. Three of them were killed.
I have told this grisly bedtime story to my children a hundred times, which is not nearly as often as I think I should. There is no way to impress upon them just how deadly drunk driving can be, and how unbearable life becomes to those left behind.
As old as my children now are, I continue to tell them about the morning after the crash, how the phone lines were abuzz with rumors. Who was in the car? Who had died instantly and who had lingered on at the hospital, brain dead but heart still beating? Who was supposed to go out with them that night but had changed their mind at the last minute, possibly sparing their lives?
By late that afternoon, long before the 6 o'clock news confirmed the tragedy, we all knew that Jimmy Martin, Timmy Tighe and Frank Kelly were dead.
When we returned to school that Monday, a voice over the intercom announced a moment of silence for the dead, but there was no need - none of us had spoken yet. The hallways were as silent as any tomb.
On the evening of their wakes, the lines to get into the Cody White Funeral Home reached down the street and around the block. My brother, John, and I waited our turn.
Like most of the students, I had known all the boys, but I had a particular fondness for Jimmy. We had gone through Orchard Hills Grammar School together, and he had the remarkable distinction of being one of the few people who had never teased me - not even once.
He was fair-skinned and blond, and his bangs flopped onto his forehead in a Dutch-boy haircut. He always smiled at me when we passed in the hallway. I'd had a small crush on him a few years before, but being painfully shy and self-conscious, I was never able to speak to him more than casually or in passing. I still thought he was beautiful.
Despite the trauma to the boys' bodies, their families opted to hold open-casket wakes. No amount of mortician's skill and makeup could hide what had happened to them. I filed past Timmy's casket, then Frank's, and finally, Jimmy's, where I found I could no longer walk.
I stood and stared at him, so swollen and bruised. He had been so perfectly beautiful.
One of his sisters, Nancy, came up to me and said she recognized me from Jimmy's grammar school class, and I found that I also could no longer speak - but I could cry. I sobbed uncontrollably while Jimmy's sister held me and told me everything would be all right. I will never forget how kind she was - this girl who had just lost her baby brother - to take the time to help me when she was the one who had suffered the greater loss.
About two weeks ago, I had one of those crystal-clear dreams that was so vivid it remained with me for days afterwards, every detail frozen in my mind as if it had actually happened.
In it, I was back at Foran High in Mrs. Butler's homeroom. Jimmy walked in and said he was sorry he hadn't had a chance to say goodbye all those years ago, but he wanted to do it now. He went around the room, calling each of us by name and passing out hugs. When he got to me, he smiled and blushed, then hugged me and said goodbye - finally.
I read this week that in the United States, alcohol-related traffic deaths, which had been steadily declining over the past two decades, took a sharp rise upwards. In Connecticut, 158 people were killed in 2000, compared to 135 in 1999. Inconceivable, but true.
How many people who were students at Foran High in 1978 now have children who are old enough to drive? Do they, as I do, tell the story of Jimmy Martin, Timmy Tighe and Frank Kelly? Do they remind their children of the terrible tale when taking them to their driving test? Do they tell the story yet again before they wave the children off to a Friday night party? Before the prom? Or do they tell them just for the heck of it, after catching a glimpse of a familiar-looking fair-haired boy with floppy bangs?
I think I'll give my kids a call at their colleges and remind them of the story just one more time. Looking at these statistics, from what I can tell, either not enough people are telling the tale, or not enough people are listening.
This column reflects the opinion of Co-Editor Kathleen Schurman and does not necessarily represent the views of Hometown Publications.
İMilford Mirror 2003
Reader Opinions
Post your opinion and share your thoughts with other readers!
Name: Kathleen Dickson Date: Jan, 26 2002 I am glad you want to make the story about drinking and driving, however not all of the dead boys were either drinking or driving, nor were they all together for the evening. Some of these boys got in that car 5 minutes before they were either killed or injured. Nobody knows the whole story except the surviving 2 boys. Yes. My brother, Frankie and Timmy were a great kids and everybody loved them. Frankie was the brother of one of my best friends, Susan. The Tighes and the Kelleys also lost other sons earlier. The lack of sensitivity regarding the immeasureable hurt we all suffered- the families and their friends- in your article is astounding. Perhaps a testiment to the worthiness and nature of the author's shyness. No person/child is protected from motor deaths and one should have the facts straight before using the example of the loss of a well-liked individuals- individuals surely deserving of their reputations. It was probably the biggest funural procession in Milford's history. My Mom wanted all the families to be together, and that will always resonate, to me, as one of the wisest, and most humane decisions I ever witnessed. I hope the rest of the town remembers the story more accurately than this author. I hope most people don't routinely use this as an example to children. The lessons to be learned is that no child perfectly safe in a car, and that they were fine people and we lost them. None of the boys would be glad about our collective initial shock and anger at this article, if they knew. We hope- the families, we can get past this, insult to injury. It has been said to me, by my friends at Pfizer, that journalists are simply incompetant at real-world endeavors. If no good is accomplished, the story should not be published. Good sense and accuracy were surely missing here. There had not been a decision for open caskets. They just happened to be left open after the family viewing. Yes. The boys were too messed up for open caskets. It was clear my brother died of a massive brain hemorrhage. But the other boys were in even worse shape, and I think we were all in too much shock to think clearly about such things. Yes. They all were beautiful kids and their memories deserve at least the respect of the *reality* of what happened. Not all of the boys were drinking. It could happen to anyone's son or daughter. The families of the victims chose to view it as a collective loss. It was remembered as a huge tragedy, but it is news to me that people use such inaccurate gossip to educate their children. The author says they appreciated my brother. If she truly did, and it wasn't a prevailing base, adolescent adoration of plastic celebrities, demonstrated by persons of low emotional intelligence, this article would never have been given genesis. Kathleen (Martin) Dickson
Name: Anonymous Date: Jan, 24 2002 I believe that important lessons can be learned by the mistakes of others but I think you made a mistake in writing this story. Did you take into consideration how your story would affect the parents of the boys you wrote about. They are all very private people who may be deeply hurt by your article.I agree that our children need to be taught lessons and consequences, but I don't these famalies deserve to suffer any further.
Number of Opinions: 2 1 - 2 of 2
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