I haven’t talked to a single person who isn’t haunted by the passing of Steven Mayer. It’s a measure of how weighty a rock is in the reach of the ripples that it casts; by the outpouring of love and support for his family in these days after the tragic accident that took his life, Dr. Mayer lived a good life indeed and his influence spread far and wide, even now, after he’s gone.
He was many things to many people with the different hats he wore as beloved educator, community leader, friend, and family man. I knew him only peripherally, as he was principal of Grover Middle School when my kids were at Community and he was ascending the church leadership at Princeton Alliance Church when we had just moved to Plainsboro and were looking to join a congregation.
What struck me most about him was the openness and kindness of his face, and even now I cannot picture it without seeing his smile shining out like a beacon. He was tall and lanky and handsome and energetic, and best of all, he devoted that energy to the betterment of the children and the schools he served and the people that he loved, including his family and church.
While I don’t travel Robbinsville-Edinburg road often, I know it well in its narrowness and curves while it winds along, connecting the Robbinsville business district with the eastern end of West Windsor. It touches the edges of older developments and new ones and the farmland that once dominated this corner of earth. I’ve wanted to drive there and see the spot where it happened and to whisper a prayer as I passed by, but so far I haven’t. It seems I haven’t been alone in this thought, as my friend, who lives in Hamilton, has actually done exactly what I imagined. From this point forward, I will never be able to drive that road without thinking of Steve Mayer and what happened there.
And there are still so many questions, even as the investigation moves along. It is a mercy that the identity of the student driver has not been released; it is impossible to imagine what she and her family are going through. It is a tremendous cross for her to bear, not only now but truly, for the rest of her life. Among the few facts that have emerged: we know that she is only 17, a senior and a classmate of Kyle, the youngest of the three Mayer boys, and that she was late for a school field trip.
But how fast was she going? Was she on her phone, perhaps asking her friends to hold the bus for her? Was the sun up yet, or was the road dark in that stillness between night and dawn? We know that Dr. Mayer was listening to a sermon but why didn’t he hear the car coming up behind him, and why didn’t his dog pull away or bark? Or did it all happen so quickly that there was no time to react?
If only he had left his house for his morning run just a few minutes earlier or later; if only his shoelace had become untied so he had stopped a little ways down the road to tie it; if only she had had time to see him and swerve safely to avoid him; if only, if only… the whys and what ifs of this story are haunting and persistent.
This event has struck a nerve because of the universality of the possibilities and the common denominators that connect us all. Who hasn’t gone running or bicycling down one of our small country roads, built at a time when our population boom was only a distant thought? Who hasn’t kissed their spouse good-bye as they dash out the door doing an ordinary thing on what should be just an ordinary day? Who hasn’t admonished their newly minted driver to be careful; don’t speed? Who hasn’t started worrying when their loved one is late coming home and starts imagining the worst, except that with the Mayers, the worst actually did happen?
This past Monday, less than a week after Steve Mayer’s death, the Robbinsville High School lacrosse team played High School North in front of an unprecedented home crowd that filled the stands, dressed in white in tribute. It was an extraordinary show of love and support, and how fitting that Kyle Mayer scored and Robbinsville won.
I wanted to attend Steve Mayer’s services at Princeton Alliance Church, but couldn’t, so I watched the live stream on my computer and I was struck by two things. First, how his son shared that when he said good-bye to his dad in the morning as he headed to school, his dad would remind him to make someone’s day. I’ve resolved that not only am I going to tell my kids to do the same thing, I’m going to do my best myself to live by that thought.
I also loved the clip shared from one of his guest sermons at Princeton Alliance Church, when he talks about the Winter Solstice and why it is perhaps his favorite time of the year. While it represents the darkest day of the year — the shortest day and the longest night — every day that follows will get brighter, with more light and sun and warmth each passing day.
It was a beautiful metaphor to describe the healing process that will have to unfold for the Mayer family and the family of the young driver, as well as for the community that loved him so deeply and lost him too soon. It certainly will not be as straight-line a process as the astronomical phenomenon that happens when the earth circles the sun, but it is as certain as the hope and forgiving that has already started to happen.
