Here is an excerpt from Ink Lake’s post about the tragic hit-and-run on Flatbush Avnue.
The hit-and-run accident that has left Errin Phelan gravely injured, reminds me that as much as I love this city, it regularly finds a way to break your heart.
The 22-year old was crossing Flatbush Avenue early Sunday morning, when she was struck by a driver that never stopped. I can tell you that that stretch of Flatbush, when not clogged with traffic, is a speedway. Phelan was with her roommate from college, and apparently pushed her out of the way of the oncoming car. That woman, an aspiring surgeon, escaped with a broken collar-bone.
Phelan had recently begun work in the Mayor’s office, helping to run the NYC Civic Corps. From the website:
The NYC Civic Corps is based on the notion that civic engagement among all New Yorkers, in every neighborhood and across the five boroughs, is a powerful way to address critical challenges in our city. Even during challenging economic times, we can count on our strongest resource: our people. By harnessing the collective power of New York City’s 8.36 million residents, we can make a difference in the quality of life for every New Yorker.
The NYC Civic Corps supports nonprofit organizations and City agencies that want to use more volunteers, but struggle to manage and support sustainable volunteer programs. Our City’s supply of ready-to-serve citizens outstrips the ability of our public and nonprofit sectors to accommodate them. The NYC Civic Corps is tasked with correcting this imbalance.
Along with her family, friends, and co-workers, I hope for a miracle, but her prognosis is grim.
In a way, this reminds me of the episode of Band of Brothers that concerned the siege of Bastogne. The company medic was running low on everything – needing to even grab bandages from the kit of a captured German. He heads into the near-deserted town, hoping to scrounge more supplies. He befriends a Belgian volunteer nurse, working at an aid station being run in the basement of a church. The conditions are terrible – there are no doctors and almost no medicine. On Christmas Eve, a bomb destroys the church, killing all inside. The medic finds her kerchief in the rubble, and later uses it to stanch the wound of another solider. (She was a real person, Renée Lemaire.)
When I was in SLC recently, I heard on NPR a biography of the great civil-rights activist, Bayard Rustin. At the conclusion, the narrator, (and I’m not sure if he was quoting Rustin or not), said,
“Things fall apart; it’s your job to put them back together.”
I’m sure both Renée Lemaire and Errin Phelan understood that perfectly.