Editor’s note: Two weeks ago, the fatal crash on Atlantic Avenue claimed the life of 13-year-old Savannah Gatchell, an eighth-grade student at Veterans Middle School. In response to this tragedy, Marblehead resident Sean Hennessey shared a remembrance of a Dear Abby column that deeply affected him as a teenager, titled “Please God, I’m Only 17.” First published decades ago, the column has been reprinted in newspapers across the country as a cautionary reminder of the risks young drivers face. We are publishing Mr. Hennessey’s letter along with the column in the hope that today’s teens will take its message to heart.
To the editor:
In the wake of the recent fatal crash on Atlantic Avenue, it would serve our teen drivers well to read a column that I first came across many years ago as a teenager, before I even began driving. It was published in my hometown newspaper after the older sister of a classmate was killed in a car crash.
The piece was an old Dear Abby column that I read over and over at the time. It stayed with me so deeply that I remember its exact title today, along with the anguish in the writer’s plea for another chance at life. You may have heard of the column, “Please God, I’m Only 17,” or perhaps you have read it yourself.
I hope you will consider publishing it. If you do, I hope it will have the same impact on today’s teens as it did on me.
Many thanks for your consideration.
Sincerely,
Sean Hennessey
Haley Road
Don Carroll
The day I died was an ordinary school day.
How I wish I had taken the bus.
But I was too cool for the bus.
I remember how I wheeled the car out of Mom.
“Special favor,” I pleaded. “All the kids drive.”
When the 2:50 bell rang, I threw all my books in the locker.
I was free until 8:40 tomorrow morning!
I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss.
Free!
It doesn’t matter how the accident happened.
I was goofing off going too fast.
Taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun.
The last thing I remember, I was passing an old lady
who seemed to be going awfully slow.
I heard the deafening crash and felt a terrible jolt.
Glass and steel flew everywhere.
My whole body seemed to be turning inside out.
I heard myself scream.
Suddenly it was quiet.
A police officer was standing over me.
There was a doctor, and my body was mangled.
I was saturated with blood.
Pieces of jagged glass were sticking out all over.
Strange that I couldn’t feel anything.
Hey, don’t pull that sheet over my head!
I can’t be dead. I’m only 17.
I’ve got a date tonight. I’m supposed to grow up
and have a wonderful life.
I haven’t even lived yet, I can’t be dead.
Later I was placed in a drawer.
My folks had to identify me.
Why did they have to see me like this?
Why did my mother have to face the most terrible ordeal of her life?
Why did Dad suddenly look like an old man?
He told the man in charge, “Yes, that is my child.”
The funeral was a weird experience.
All my relatives and friends walked toward the casket.
They passed by, one by one, and looked at me with the saddest eyes.
Some of the boys were crying.
A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked away.
I wish someone could wake me up and get me out of this casket!
My mom and dad are so broken up.
My grandparents are so racked with grief that they can barely walk.
My brothers and sisters stare ahead like zombies, and move like robots.
No one can believe that this happened to me.
Please don’t bury me! I have lots of living to do!
I want to run and jump again.
I want to laugh and sing.
Please don’t put me in the ground.
I promise if you give me one more chance,
I’ll be the most careful driver in the whole world!
