"The Fishing Trip"
“Mom …please let me go fishing with the guys…” No!” She said, “Not this time”… “But why not?” I begged, “You never do this, you always let me go.” But my mom stood her ground and I went anyways. I should have listened to her but I didn’t, and I watched my friend Jeff die.
It was a warm summer evening in 1978 and a group of us went fishing on the Sacramento River near East Nicolaus. I, my brother David, Kenneth Hulsey, Jeff Sims, Ricky Brewer and Jeff Collete, gathered up our fishing gear right before dusk and headed to the river. Jeff Sims was the youngest guy, he was about 14 years old and the rest of us ranged from 17 to 18 years old. My sister Debora stayed home, she wanted to go but obeyed my mom. She and Jeff were best friends, she was about his age.
Jeff Sims was the only one who caught a fish that night. We thought he was lucky. We were heading back home at night on the levee in Jeff Collete’s small truck. I was sitting between Ricky and Jeff Collete, he was driving his small truck. David, Kenneth and Jeff Sims were riding in the back of the truck. We were taking it slow and Ricky lit up a joint and after he took a hit, he went to pass it to the guys in the back of the truck, Jeff Sims reached for it as Ricky turned and leaned out the window to hand it to him. All of sudden Ricky felt a tug on his bandana headband and we heard the guys in the back yelling. Jeff just fell out!
We backed up slowly to go retrieve him and were shocked when we jumped out of the truck and he was flat on his back not moving at all. I ran up to him and lifted his head into my lap and looked into his eyes, they were open and I talked to him and said hang in there Jeff…we need you to be ok. My hand felt blood and I knew that he had a major head injury. He wasn’t responding to us and we started to panic. The guys lifted him carefully into the back of the truck and we drove to the nearest establishment, a bar in East Nicolaus. We were hysterical and covered in blood as we ran into the bar yelling at the bartender to call 911.
The ambulance came and got Jeff and took him to Rideout Memorial Hospital in Marysville. We got into Jeff’s truck and followed. We were all waiting outside the hospital for a short time when Kenneth came crashing out the doors of the emergency room screaming “He is dead! Jeff is dead!” We all fell into a heaving mess of crying wailing teens. It was the most shocking news I have ever heard. We couldn’t believe it, was all so unreal. This can’t be happening. He was so awesome and such a sweet young guy…
We wanted to do something real special for him and his parents, so we created an extravagant haunted house in an abounded run down house next door to our friend Cathy Haddock’s home. It was a big success and we had super fun making and being animated creepy beings in it and scaring the heck out of people. We charged money to the attendees and made enough to buy a pine tree to plant next to Jeff’s grave.
We loved Jeff so much, the loss was unbearable but we continued to visit his grave and keep his memory alive. This tragedy bonded us and brought us together and brought healing. I believe that everyone who was around then will always remember that scary haunted house and the teenagers that worked so hard day and night to make it happen. Every time we heard the song “Freebird” by Lynryd Skynrd we would stop and pause and reflect on the memory of Jeff yelling out “Freebird...I’m a Freebird”…it was one of his favorite songs. Whenever I hear the song “Wintertime” by Steve Miller, I feel him near me. This incident changed us, we were never the same. I love you Jeff, my little brother from another mother, and can’t wait to see you again someday. You left us way too soon.
~April Dickinson