The Reaction to Naya Rivera’s Drowning Proves “Safe” Childhood has Failed a Generation

On Thanksgiving morning, 2018, I watched a farmer die.

I was on Amtrak, headed home for the holiday. My wife and six week old daughter had traveled ahead of me by car, but I had to work late. I didn’t want to have to drive two vehicles back, so I took the train.

Two hours outside Chicago, I was thrown forward violently as a blur of green metal scraped down the side of the train car with all the roar of a tornado touching down. That was the last moment on earth for Andrew Frese, a 25 year old farmer who was crossing the tracks, and never looked up. He left behind a wife and kids. Later, I learned that Andrew was a childhood friend of one of my work associates, which broke my heart all over again.

The situation was tragic, but it wasn’t foreign to me. My great-grandmother was killed from injuries of being rammed against the barn by a cow’s horn. A great-great Uncle died in a tractor rollover, and a great aunt when the hood of her jacket got caught in the Power Take Off of a tractor, which snapped her neck. My cousin’s friend hit an unmarked gas line while plowing. The explosion instantly killed him and his father, who was also working in the field. A neighbor and close friend of the family drowned after his son fell through the ice of a pond while doing chores.

None of those stories count the near-misses. My buddy Jaron’s dad who fell off a grain bin from 20 feet up, and landed on his head…