Death and not Much Life in a Small Town

I don't often think of home, home being the small town of Hobbs, New Mexico, where I lived for 18 years. I have been away from there for 10 years and occasionally I think about what might have become of the town and people that I knew, but I think of it in more of a detached sense.

There was a family that lived not too far from my house; the Rogers family. The mother was Kathy, the father was Jim and they had two children: Jason and Kristy. Kristy was about my age and Jason was slightly older. Since we lived outside of the city limits in a sparsely populated area, there weren't many people around and I didn't have a lot of children to play with. Kristy was one of the few. She used to ride her bike over or I would ride mine to her house. She was the kind of girl who always seemed drawn to trouble. I know that she always liked the boys that were the "bad" boys and she was one of the first people I ever had a conversation about sex with.

One day, there was a horrible accident. We could hear the crash from our house down the road. We got in the car and drove up the road to discover that Jim had backed out in front of a car that was traveling about 55 MPH on the highway (The car was not speeding. That was the speed limit on the road). Kristy and Jason had been sitting in the back of the pickup and were thrown out. Kristy was thrown into a ditch, landing in the grass, managing to sustain only a broken arm. Jason, on the other hand, had been thrown out onto the roadway. It was a very graphic scene for a girl of around 10 to take in. There was brain matter on the road and Jason was neither moving nor breathing. They managed to bring him back from the brinks of death and shockingly he survived the ordeal, but was permanently brain damaged. He required the use of a wheel chair or a walker in order to move and his speech was severely impaired. He would require constant care for the rest of his life.

A few years back I was told that Kristy had gotten involved with drugs and gangs. She had two children and was living at home because she was not very stable. She had been in jail and did not have a job. Kathy had been diagnosed with cancer and would die soon thereafter, leaving Jim to take care of Jason, Kristy and Kristy's children. Jim was very heavy, had always been a smoker and was in failing health. We all assumed it was only a matter of time before he would pass as well. Kristy said she was going to get sober and take care of her kids. She was dating a much older man. He was around 50 years old and she was in her late 20s. What happened next wasn't entirely unpredictable; however, it was both shocking and tragic. The 50 year old man that she was dating beat her to death with his fists. I do not know what made him do such a thing. What ever makes a person do such a thing?

The children were left with Jim and Jason. The boyfriend was only charged with manslaughter and didn't serve much time in prison. Jim's health only worsened. He died this year leaving Jason and the children. The state actually gave the children to the boyfriend who killed Kristy. Jason lives alone in the family home. A service comes and checks on him and takes him to get groceries and such, since he is unable to take care of himself. I find it ironic that no one expected Jason to live through the accident and now he has survived when the rest of his family has passed.

The reason this story comes to mind is mainly because I only learned today from my mother of Kristy's tragic death and the events that pursued. I do not know when she was killed. I do not know how it is that the man only served a short term for manslaughter and then was awarded custody of her children. I do not think he was their natural father. However, hearing of these tragic events made me think of home and how most of those who have remained there have not prospered. I hear occasionally of a divorce here, a drug addiction there, a car accident that kills entire families and leaves any survivors rendered handicapped for the rest of their lives, but I think that I displace myself from it as if I don't even recognize that life. I wonder how such a small town can befall so much tragedy so often. Is it because it is a small town that perhaps we just hear about it more because word travels so fast or is it a deeper problem?

I think of all the poverty in the town. In Hobbs, there are not many jobs that pay very well. There are very few people with much money to speak of. Most of those that do have money are from old ranching families and/or the oil industry. There are some doctors and lawyers of course as well. You can see; however, the sharp line in that small city of rich and poor. Generally there are well off individuals and very poor individuals and very little in between. I start to think that poverty, while not the lone cause of tragedy, seems to breed tragedy. It is the catalyst which gives momentum to tragedy.

I am humbled by the story of the Rogers family. I know that things like these happen every day, but not to people that you know and grew up with. I remember my childhood and I remember smiling faces of children that I knew. Then I see those same children in my mind as adults and realize how many of them are gone or whose lives have taken a dark turn of some sort. They are all under the age of 30. I am happy that I have made another life for myself, but I will always occasionally think of home and wish there was something that I could have done to save it.