Oct 6, 2013 2 min read

In May 2012, my 86-year-old father flipped his riding mower and broke his hip. It led to months of recovery and everyday chores piled up. Less than a year later, my 85-year-old mother had triple heart bypass surgery. Needless to say it was a stressful time.

There were three neighbors who could be counted on night or day. One of them was Harold “Junior” McCutcheon.

For those who did not know him, it would be easy to walk away from the front page article in the Observer-Reporter on Sept. 28, after he apparently killed his ex-wife, shot and wounded a male friend of her’s and then turned the gun on himself, believing McCutcheon was a bit of a listless man with anger management issues and someone who dodged the responsibilities of life. As a neighbor and friend, I can tell you my family never saw that.

McCutcheon was, I’m sure, not a saint by any means, but the man we knew for over 30 years was a good man with a heart of gold who was always willing to help anyone in need. He took pride in his family and home and especially his children. For many years he was just a phone call away or sometimes it was just the wave of the arms and he would be on his way up the road.

We can only speculate what transpired that night and will never be able to understand how it caused a man with broad shoulders and a big heart to reach a point of no return.

Penny Cress Seaman

Washington