I wrote this in November 2023. On advice of attorney, I didn’t submit it then. Both drivers were beat up, but we recovered. All the equipment was totaled.

We finished combining corn the last week of October. Then it was a rush to do tillage because you never know when winter is coming.

It was going well, with a few monkey wrenches at the end. When I finished ripping the last cornfield Nov. 10, I was feeling good about the world. It was around noon that I was coming home on Highway 14 like I’ve done a thousand times before. I was thinking that Pam and I should celebrate. Spending seven hours together in an emergency room wasn’t what I had in mind.

As you probably know I was in an accident at 12:21 that day. I say “you probably know,” because crashes of this type end up in the news across the Midwest. Every story included the fact that no alcohol was involved. That’s good.

I was in my 7130-tractor pulling my ripper, when a semi-truck rear-ended me. Semi-tractor collisions usually don’t end well for the farmer. But here I am writing this. The driver of the truck had injuries; I pray for his recovery.

I was rear-ended in my car at the end of our driveway three springs ago. This was eerily similar.

I read once from some columnist that any experience that doesn’t kill you, and you can turn into a thousand words is worth having. That might be true, but I’d like to stop having experiences that involve collisions. Maybe something like finding a lost kitten.

After an ambulance ride, I was in the emergency room at Sleepy Eye Hospital. It was precautionary to be sure my inside parts were okay. When those checked out, I knew I was just stiff and sore and bruised. Through that whole experience, I got to see firsthand and up close our local EMT’s, police, highway patrol, firemen, nurses, radiologists, and doctors do their work.

There simply is no way to adequately express how wonderful these people are and how lucky we are to have them. In a small town, these are people we cross paths with at church and ball games. They are friends and neighbors. When you see them transform into their professional selves in an emergency setting, it’s like they become superheroes. I guess they do.

As I write this, things are still bouncing around in my head like a pinball machine. I assume a tremendous jolt of adrenaline shot through my body upon impact. Everything that followed seemed in fast speed. I apologize if this is scattershot. Here are random thoughts.

First a serious one. In many conversations since Friday, people have referenced my guardian angel and God’s will. I have always liked the idea of guardian angels. We have a favorite painting of an angel watching over a little girl in a flower garden. That comforted me when our children were young and even now when they have gone out into the world.

I also believe in divine intervention. I say that fully aware that I do not understand the “mind” of God.

Here’s my dilemma. I am happy to be alive, more than I can express. At the same time, through my daughter who works for the United Nations, I have been sharply aware of thousands of children who have been killed in Gaza. I have seen many of them on social media feeds. It is agonizing. Each is as valuable as me. They just are.

I know God does not negotiate. But I am 67 and have had a nice life. A 2-year-old in Gaza who died a horrible death from bomb fragments in her skull has not had much of a life. Would there were way to trade my life for that child’s? There’s not. But it leaves me conflicted.

I admit to wondering about God’s plan. That is hard to write, but it is in my brain amped up on adrenaline. All I can do is let God be God. And I’ll try to be the best me I can be.

A less serious thought. A few friends have said that God must have plans for me since I am still here. That’s a lot of pressure to put on me. What if I just want to hang out with my family and drink beer with friends? Do I have to do something grand?

The day after the accident was Pie Day at our house, an annual event that involves relatives, a messy kitchen, and a couple dozen pies. If things had ended differently for me, they probably would have canceled Pie Day. But since I was upright, it was full pie ahead.

Pam needed a few ingredients before people arrived. I was mainlining ibuprofen by then and volunteered to go to Schutz Foods. This was 24 hours after impact. I was very much appreciating being here. Being anywhere really. At the store, I merrily greeted Aaron, Vickie, Sue, and Joann, talking each of them up. I was sort of giddy.

On the way home, I thought of Ebeneezer Scrooge after the visits from the Ghosts, when he realized he had a second chance. He ran through the streets greeting everyone joyfully. That’s how I was feeling. The Schutz crew might have wondered if I’d been drinking.

I will say this about being rear-ended by a semi and having your name in a bunch of newspapers. It’s a good way to reconnect with friends. Since Friday, I’ve had people from various parts of my life reach out by text, calls, and visits.

An experience like this is a reminder how each of those friends is a gift. Number one of those is wife Pam. She has now been with me in emergency rooms four times after injuries. I might be accident prone or lucky or both.

A couple of hours after the collision and ambulance ride and emergency room, I was in bed between tests. It had been a flurry of activity. My mind was racing a hundred miles an hour. Then came the first moment I was alone with Pam. I reached up and took her hand and burst into tears. I don’t even know why. I think it was pure exhaustion. I just know I was glad she was there.

— Randy Krzmarzick farms on the home place west of Sleepy Eye, where he lives with his wife, Pam.