In the days that followed the accident, we heard contrasting versions about the accident and what had happened. It was not clear how the pickup truck had lost control and ended up in the canal.
Honestly, those details did not matter much to me, since nothing could change the tragic reality we were now facing. Maria was gone and her family would be mourning the loss of their precious daughter for the rest of their lives. Another sad fact was that Mr. and Mrs. Lawson had lost their son in an accident on the same stretch of road just two years earlier. Nothing, no investigation or knowing the details, was going to bring Maria back or change the severity of Tanya’s injuries.
Nonetheless, here are the details of the accident as we learned them:
On that fateful day, Tanya, Maria and Jerry had drove down to a local burger place for lunch. Since Jerry’s car had broken down, they accepted a lift back to school from Bob. (Some names have been changed)
Bob and his girlfriend, Sharon welcomed Tanya and her friends into their pickup truck. Maria and Tanya playfully competed to ride in the cab, and Maria won, riding in the front seat next to Sharon. Tanya and Jerry jumped into the back for what was supposed to be a short one-mile ride back to Socorro High School.
Along the way, the pickup reportedly fishtailed off the road, toppled and ended up with the passenger side down in a nearby canal. Bob and Jerry managed to get out unharmed. Sharon, seated in the middle of the cab, suffered a badly fractured leg. Tanya was forcefully ejected from the bed of the truck.
The passenger side of the pickup, with Maria still in it, was underwater in the canal. Despite the rescuers’ prompt intervention, they could not get her out of the cab in time. Maria Lawson had drowned.
Our family met Maria just the weekend before, when Tanya invited her to spend the night at our home. She talked very lovingly about her family and how her parents were very much in love still today. I was not used to a teenager talking about their family with such high regard. I remember being so impressed with her and looking forward to getting to know her.
A few days later Maria, just moments earlier so vibrant and full of life with a future full of hope, was gone. The accident sent a shock wave through the entire community. It had been witnessed by many teachers and students returning from lunch break that day.
A Place to Call Home!
All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
–Helen Keller
April 1988
Our family moved to Fort Bliss, located in El Paso, Texas after a three-year assignment in Stuttgart, West Germany, where my husband Richard was stationed as a Criminal Investigator with the United States Army. After our tour overseas, it was good to be back home in the good ol’ USA once again!
We had mostly lived in government quarters during our various assignments. Now, Richard was about to be promoted to Master Sergeant. We knew that his advancement was going to bring us some financial respite, so we decided to buy our first house and live off the military installation. As a military family, we had moved every two or three years since our marriage fifteen years earlier. The idea of finally settling down was quite appealing.
This desert land of West Texas, with its ever-blue sky and its dust storms, felt like a good place to settle for our family of five with a dog and cat. We saw ourselves staying for a while. Richard could retire from the service here and we could finally put down our roots. The children were growing up fast; the boys, Terry and Tim, were now attending 6th and 8th grade, and our daughter Tanya, now 14, was entering her freshman year in high school. The kids would no longer need to change schools and would be able to keep their friends.
Tanya and Tim, who are only 16 months apart, were very close. Often people thought they were twins, both with blond hair and blue eyes. Tanya was more boisterous and dominant, Tim was pretty much laid back and quiet. He was content tagging along in a small group of people or playing alone in his room. They were both academically sharp and very active.
Terry, our youngest, was two years younger than Tim, with thick brown hair and brown eyes, and very much his own person. As a young boy, he was the most temperamental of the three. He disliked school with a purple passion and loved playing outdoors.
So here we were in El Paso—a place we could finally call home!
El Paso was sprawling with new construction at that time. Rows of neatly positioned freshly built houses punctuated the desert like little houses on a sandy Monopoly™ board. After so many games of Monopoly™, our family’s favorite game, we could finally pick and choose the real thing! We spent several weeks looking at different developments and finally decided on a floor plan from a model home. We chose a lot in a new subdivision not far from Fort Bliss.
Becoming homeowners was exciting and frightening at the same time. During the summer, the kids and I went to the construction site every day and watched the workers dig the foundations, pour the concrete, frame and roof our house, then complete the interiors. Every day was a new adventure, and we were full of anticipation.
In fall of 1988 we finally moved into our home that still smelled of fresh paint. We had no neighbors yet, as we were among the first families to take possession in our area. As night fell, it was just us and the Texas desert. Our closest neighbors were a quarter mile away. I loved the sense of space and isolation.
We loved our new home. Finally, our dream had come true. Our high-ceilinged living room featured an open loft area and we had a spacious master bedroom, upstairs bedrooms and a balcony for the kids. Our living room featured a fireplace, something we had always wanted.
I spent some of my time with our Brittany spaniel, Darlyn, sitting on the back patio enjoying the serenity of the desert sky and watching the tumbleweeds blow across the desert, knowing that soon Oreo, our cat, would be back from one of his night explorations. Tumbleweeds fascinated me for some odd reason; they looked like thorn balls bowling invisible distant pins. There would always be a pile of them pushing against our rock wall fence. Being from the Midwest, they were unlike anything I had ever been around before.
Days and weeks went by, but things were not happening according to our plans. My husband’s promotion was delayed, and substitute teaching jobs were hard to come by. I took a job as a server at a local Dunkin’ Donuts to make sure we could make ends meet.
Living in a new home was great, but I was becoming increasingly overwhelmed by the many changes and challenges this new life had brought to us. Germany felt very far away. My life was focused on my family, helping with homework, work, running errands, taking care of the house, being involved with the monthly CID wives get-togethers, playing games with the family and getting to know the new neighbors.
Richard and I would have loved to have a night out together. However, due to the financial constraints, we could no longer afford it. There was a dollar movie theater in the area, and it was always a special treat to go there as a family. Popcorn and soda were expensive, so everyone understood they had to settle for a “movie only” night. We didn’t seem to mind. Even though money was tight, our spirits were high!
Once the excitement of the move wore off, I came to realize that I was not really accustomed to living off-post in the “civilian world,” after all these years of wandering from one military installation to another. I had been a military wife for 15 years. Making new friends was not as easy as I had anticipated. I was used to being involved as a Youth Activities Director and teaching school in various capacities in West Germany and on other stateside assignments. There I had my place in the community and I felt great about my contribution.
An introvert by nature, it felt rather daunting to venture out among a much larger community of people