Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

So this is it. My final column of 2024.

Every year at the close of the year, there is of course one final column. Every year, I try to think of something profound to write about. Most of the time, I fail horrendously. I think last year I settled for a piece on a dead body being found on a street in Renovo.

But I think I can come up with a few better observations at the end of this year. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about things for a while. You see, I died in June.

On June 8, I collapsed just after waking up in the morning. My fall was broken mostly by my own face, which meant that my nose ended up bleeding. But I was barely noticeable because of my split lip, so that worked out nicely.

My wife ran me to the emergency room. My heart kept stopping, and at one point I literally died for thirty seconds. They had to give me CPR to bring me back. When I opened my eyes, the nurse told me that my heart had stopped, and I asked if anyone had yelled “Stat!” because that would be really awesome.

So from now on, all of my haunted tours will be given by an authentic dead guy.

After that, I was raced out to the Williamsport Hospital, where I spent five days that felt like a thousand years, mostly hanging about in bed. My heart basically fixed itself at that point, and they sent me home. Chris Miller came to visit me while I was there, which I thought was really cool of him, considering how often we poke fun at each other in our writing.

There have been no further incidents with my heart since then, and I’m fine. My lip healed and the stitches are out, so any residual ugliness is just my face.

It’s basically a cliché to say that something like this will make you think. But it’s essentially true, and unavoidable, I guess. I can’t say I remember what I’d been doing the day before it happened. The most recent research job I’d worked on was about a Civil War submarine, and my most recent column was about the different ethnic neighborhoods in historic Lock Haven. (The next issue, the Record ran a little graphic wishing me well, which I thought was really nice. Cut that one out for my scrapbook.)

Obviously, it’s not every day that you die and then move on with your life, and it makes you think about things a little. Interestingly, I probably had less to reconsider than I previously would have, thanks to COVID. I’d done a lot of thinking during the whole COVID mess, and had been spending more time with my family and appreciating life. So when I needed to rethink life again, I probably didn’t have quite as far to go this time.

My family took all this somewhat harder than I did. I can’t say I remember much of the experience, and even what I do recall is mostly in short flashes. But it was very scary for them; my son still doesn’t want to think about it. I’ve been spending more time with the kid, and coming to realize just how much I do enjoy him. I will never understand those parents who can’t wait to send their kids off to school. We adopted a great little boy, and we only get just so many years with him. I want to appreciate them.

I’ve had a few adventures since, a few ghost hunts, some exploring and treasure hunting. And it’s been great. And that’s one thing I also realized—I don’t want to give any of that up. The tendency is to want to back off, take things easier, but I don’t want that. There’s only just so much time left, and I want to enjoy it by doing the things I love. If I took it easier, I’d be changing. I wouldn’t be me anymore, and I’ve discovered I kind of like being me.

After all, one day it’ll be over for good. As the pages turn and I move on, one day I will die and not recover, which I am told happens. And that’s okay, too—It’s the way of things. But in the meantime, I want to live, and enjoy the rest of the ride.