I almost died last month, both literally and figuratively.  My escape was due to angels, both visible and invisible.  I gained knowledge from a firsthand near death experience and, as Jim Larkin said to his amicus editoris about the accident, "I think it's your duty to have full disclosure." 
Only a lawyer would speak of full disclosure.  An accountant might speak of assets and liabilities.  An insurance man would talk about deductibles and clauses.  An engineer might mention engine and axel analysis.  A paramedic might look for blood and guts.  A priest might ask about seatbelts.
It was shortly after 12 noon on Mon-day, January 14^th, when a bunch of teen-agers in a black SUV pulled directly onto Michigan State Highway #2 without looking either way.  I was traveling due west on #2, heading toward Victoria with three Victoria passengers, at a speed approach-ing 50 mph on this cold but clear winter day.
At the sight of the SUV in my immediate path I took my foot off the accelerator, braked, and instinctively did not crank to the left nor to the right because such a move would surely cause more grievous harm to someone in my car.  In a flash I saw that a side door could never bear the brunt of the imminent collision, nor could the person sitting next to it.
There was no thought of the next life nor of this life, but I remember being peaceful in the knowledge I was not at fault and that I had to accept our fate under the circumstances of that moment.
Then I crashed into the broadside of the SUV.  The word "perpendicular" comes to mind now, as it did then.
Smash!  It happened.  It really happened.  A huge crash in an instant of time, drastically changing the course of my day, if not my entire life.
I don't recall hearing a loud sound on impact.  I don't recall hearing a sound at all.  I don't recall seeing or hearing the heavy metal hood fold like cardboard in front of my eyes nor the rearview mirrors smash into shambles.  I don't recall seeing or hearing my air bag explode out of the steering wheel.  I don't recall the airbag touching me.  I don't recall being held in place by my seatbelt.  My new car was totaled in the blink of an eye and I don't recall blinking my eyes. 
Then there was, for another instant, dead silence.  I felt no pain.  I didn't know how or if my car twirled on the highway before it came to a standstill partway in the ditch on my side, but a white piece of cloth was draped like a large handkerchief over my steering wheel.  I touched it and thought "pillow case."  I touched it again and knew "air bag."
I heard the living voices of my passengers and yelled at them to get out of the car because I smelled something hot or burning and I feared an explosion.  I stayed in the car, however, to call 911 on my cell phone, not realizing at that moment that a dead car would not be giving power to a cell phone. 
I told 911 that there was a very bad crash on Highway 2 and that a sign said we were in front of the Kewadin Inn.  Someone said we were in the city limits of Manistique.  Then I took off on foot through the snow to join my friends in the lobby of the Inn.
The place became crowded with cops and paramedics and innkeepers.  Every-one's attention centered on one of the teenage boys from the SUV who suffered a gash on his head and went into shock.  The other three boys were brothers and when their parents arrived the tall brother said the 'f' word to his mother.  There had also been a girl in the SUV but she ran to the home across the highway after the accident and never reappeared.  We've been told it was the home of the three brothers.  We've been told the boys had done this before, pulled out in front of another vehicle in this location.
Not one of the people from the SUV, nor their parents, inquired after our condition or talked with us or apologized.  As a matter of fact, the four of us from Minnesota were pretty much ignored by most of the professionals in the lobby. 
But if we tasted the rot of rudeness, we also sipped the milk of human kind-ness, a kindness that saved our day, not to mention our butts.  Ken Krueger, manager of the Kewadin Inn, gave us a ride to Bill's Automotive in Manistique where my car had been towed.  He helped move all our luggage and stuff into his van, then gave us a ride 50 miles to the Escanaba airport where I rented a car to get us the rest of the way home to Victoria.  After helping us move the luggage again to the rental car, he returned to his wife and three young children in Manistique. 
Thank you, Ken.  And thank you to the entire staff, especially Linda Johnson, at the Kewadin Inn for your help, courtesy, kindness.
The young girl working at Bill's Automotive also was very kind, as she telephoned feverishly to find us a service that could get us back to Victoria.  I think her name is Becky.  Thank you, Becky.
And there was a lady, Anita Paradise, who witnessed the entire accident on her way home from work at a nearby clinic.  She stopped at the Inn to give her report and witness to the police.  This kindness took time away from her home and her family.  Thank you, Anita.
Most especially, there were three passengers in my car who did not look askance when I got behind the wheel of the rental car to drive the rest of the eight hours to Victoria, Minnesota.  I knew I had to do that.  So did they.  Thank you, Tom and Chuck and Carol.
There is one more angel I want to mention, for he is the angel responsible for my being strapped in a seatbelt.  He is largely responsible, I believe, for saving my life.  Before we left Indian River, Michigan, Father Elstan had peered over his glasses, looked me in the eye, and said, "Sue, you wear your seatbelt."  I said, "Yes, Father."  He knows I have been quite remiss in that category.
I now know firsthand that seatbelts save lives, that airbags are important, that big cars are safer than small cars, and that we are at the mercy of others on the road.  I also know that there must be work I have not finished yet here on earth, including deadlines to meet.
Oh, yes ... and thank you, God.  --Sue