In a life suddenly changed, a spirit undimmed

D

ARRINGTON -- On days such as these, some people take stock.

The weather is rainy, it gets dark early, cash is sparse and you wonder if the world is going down the drain.

But perhaps you had a good Thanksgiving, with turkey, pumpkin pie and good humor shared around the kitchen table.

As Tara Evans says, "What is life without joking and eating? And hey, you're alive! I'm alive!"

In the Darrington home she shares with her family, Tara Evans puts on work gloves before going out to rake leaves.

O

n a Friday evening 29 years ago this fall, 15-year-old Tara Evans was on a date, her first where she was allowed to ride all the way to Everett for a movie.

The boy was 18. He picked her up at her family's house in Darrington.

At the intersection of southbound Highway 204 from Lake Stevens and eastbound U.S. 2 on the trestle from Everett, a traffic sign was missing.

The boy's car collided with a vehicle driven by a young Seattle man who had three passengers.

The Herald reported on Sept. 18, 1982, that all five of the young people in the two cars were injured, the other driver and Tara critically.

The firemen pulled Tara from the tangled floorboard of her date's car and did their best to pack her into an ambulance for the ride across the trestle to what was then Everett General Hospital.

Though doctors successfully drained the fluid pushing on her brain, Tara's temperature rose to 106 degrees. She contracted meningitis while in the hospital and then got pneumonia. She slipped into a coma.

Tara Evans crosses Highway 530 in Darrington on her way to rake leaves earlier this month. Each day, she volunteers by picking up litter around town. “Tara's as sweet as can be. And she truly helps us,” says Rick Jones of the town crew.

'I

got the death talk many times," said Tara's mother Edolean Greenleaf. "The doctors and nurses asked me if I understood that Tara might die. I understood every word, but I just didn't agree. People thought I was crazy."

Greenleaf made the 100-mile round trip to Everett almost every day.

She read to Tara.

She played cassette tapes on a boom box, mostly the hits by Tara's favorite band, Journey.

Edolean remembers well the lyrics of "Don't Stop Believin' " -- "Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world..."

And the mother massaged her daughter with Bag Balm, an ointment orginally developed for cows' udders. The balm was one that her Tarheel family was familiar with before they packed up and moved from Sylva, N.C., to Darrington in the 1940s.

"Tara never once got a bedsore," Edolean said.

Tara Evans rakes leaves in a park along Highway 530 in Darrington earlier this month. “This is my town. I gotta make it look good,” she says.

B

efore the accident, Tara was a bubbly teenager. She didn't like the shape of her nose, but she was proud of her bleached-blonde curly locks. A member of the drill team, she dreamed of making the cheer squad as her mother had done.

Beryl Mauldin and his wife, Rita, retired educators with the Darrington School District, remember her childhood well.

Rita Mauldin was Tara's kindergarten teacher.

"On the first day of school, I assigned jobs to five students. Tara wasn't one of them. So she dropped to the floor, whining about never being chosen for anything," she said. "When I pulled her up, there was my little drama queen, smiling."

In high school, Tara was a ball of fire, said former principal Beryl Mauldin.

"Her brother Loren Evans was an outstanding student, but Tara was not especially academic," he said. "However, she loved people and was active at school. She's still our sweetheart."

Tara grew up with Tracy Robinson Franke, now the principal of Darrington Elementary School.

"Nothing held Tara down," Franke said.

At home, Tara was a clown. She pulled some typical teenage stunts such as sneaking cigarettes and driving without permission.

But Tara also cut the firewood with her stepdad Bill Greenleaf and early on experienced the value of hard work.

She learned to cook just like her grandfather Ed Fox, who brought his family to Darrington for the logging boom, but ended up owning Mr. Ed's Burger Barn. His specialty was the gollywhopper.

"A deluxe burger on a French roll," Tara remembered. "Two patties, bacon, cheese, ham, lettuce and tomato. Those were so good, I could get fat just thinking about one."

One summer Saturday when Tara was working at the Burger Barn, the lunch line trailed out the door of the drive-in.

"I poked my head in the back door and realized that the other girl scheduled to work had up and left," her mother said. "The place was packed and there was Tara, tears streaming down her face, working her behind off. She was not going to quit."

Tara always had been stubborn.

"Stubborn and positive," Edolean Greenleaf said. "The parts of her that make her a survivor."

Tara Evans wears her drill-team uniform in a photo from early in her high school years, before her accident.

I

n the spring of 1983, nearly six months after the accident, Tara was still in a coma and weighed only 82 pounds. Tara's family decided to bring her home from the hospital for a visit on her brother Loren's birthday.

As was his habit, Grandpa Ed was joking around and making everybody laugh.

"I looked over at Tara," Edolean said. "Her little belly was shaking and I knew she was laughing, too."

"I told her that Loren was sitting by her foot and that if she could hear me, she should kick him in the butt."

Loren got a foot jabbed against his behind.

"Then she opened her eyes," her mother said. "I think Tara just needed to come home."

F

irst there was physical therapy, followed by a wheelchair, a walker and then a cane. Tara worked hard.

In lieu of speech, an alphabet board helped Tara communicate with her family, though her spelling stunk, her mother said.

"I still can't spell," Tara said. "After the accident, I had to learn to walk and talk, that's twice in my life. But I can still dance.

"I have severe brain damage. I ain't gonna cry about it. I could have done that. I still have double vision in both eyes. But I would rather see four of you than see blackness, or not walk or talk … I lived!"

Now 44, Tara can remember most of her life since she returned to Darrington High School after the accident.

Tara speaks haltingly, with great effort and a sense of humor.

"I graduated a year after my own class," she said. "Due to technical difficulties."

In her senior year, some boys at school nominated Tara for homecoming royalty, probably as a joke, said Beryl Mauldin, the retired high school principal.

But the rest of the students took it seriously and she was elected senior princess. She wore a blue formal gown and her cane was decorated with blue and white silk.

Franke, her friend who is now the elementary school principal, was in her freshman year at the University of Washington and returned to Darrington for homecoming.

"Tara's accident was the sort of thing that wasn't supposed to happen to any of us. It was a shock to everyone in town," Franke said. "At the coronation, Tara's prince David Rumsey read a poem and told us how proud he was to escort her."

Tara Evans jokes with her high school principal, Beryl Mauldin, along Highway 530 in October. “She loved people and was active at school. She's still our sweetheart,” Mauldin says. .

T

ara volunteers each day to pick up the trash around Darrington. Candy wrappers, pop and beer cans, cigarette butts, loose newspaper.

"And I tell you what," her mother said, "she attacks the job as if she was getting paid to do it."

Rick Jones of the town crew even gave Tara her own garbage can and recycling bin out behind City Hall.

"Tara's as sweet as can be," Jones said. "And she truly helps us."

Rita Mauldin agreed.

"Do you see any trash around? Of course you don't," the retired teacher said. "But it's not because people in Darrington are so tidy. It's because of Tara."

Tara modestly protests that her volunteer job isn't that big of a deal.

"I don't work in the snow. I may have brain damage, but I'm not dumb," she said with a dramatic roll of her pretty blue eyes. "Plus, I don't stay out more than a few hours a day. I like to watch my soap operas."

Town Councilman Dan Rankin, a lifelong friend of Tara's brother Loren, loves to tease Tara.

"She has a great sense of humor, and while she is out working she always waves and smiles," Rankin said. "We appreciate what she does so much that we appointed her the grand marshal of the July 4th parade one summer."

People taking care of their neighbors is the Darrington way, Franke said.

"So Tara takes care of our community. A lot of people in this town are laid off right now. But you can still help out, and Tara sets the example for us. She doesn't feel sorry for herself and never has," Franke said. "When we were in sixth grade, her mother was working all the time, so Tara threw herself her own birthday party. Her personality did not change with the accident."

Tara Evans tries to warm up outside the Darrington city hall and library building on a chilly day in October after throwing away garbage she had picked up. .

T

ara has cut off her hair a half dozen times for Locks of Love, an organization that makes wigs for children with cancer.

"I've had to do a buzz cut on her head a few times to straighten it all out. People in the family ask why I let her cut her hair," said her mother Edolean. "Because it helps her have a purpose. Besides, she has lovely curly hair that should be shared.

"I've learned to celebrate the things Tara can do and not focus on what she can't. I am proud of Tara's courage, determination, kindness and the philosophy that what she does is her duty. It's all been worthwhile. We prayed hard and Tara lived."

Life since the accident hasn't been easy for Edolean Greenleaf, now 68.

"If not for Edolean, none of us would be here," said her husband, Bill Greenleaf.

"Us" includes Bill's mother, who has Alzheimer's disease, Edolean's elderly second cousin and Missy, Tara's 17-year-old daughter.

Missy was the result of a brief relationship Tara had when she was in her 20s. The Greenleafs adopted Missy, who, while bright, deals with Asperger's syndrome. Tara worries about Missy fitting in at school. She knows what that is like.

Edolean prepares a big meal to feed six or more people each day.

"Good thing I love to cook," she said.

Good thing she also has strong backbone and faith in God, Edolean said.

"I've done a lot of studying over the years. First about brain injuries, then Alzhiemer's and then Asperger's." Edolean said. "I needed the knowledge so I felt like I was in some sort of control. In the end, though, I just let go and let God."

Tara Evans takes a break from raking leaves.

T

ara hobbles across Highway 530 as a log truck barrels down the road toward her. On the other side of the street, she leans against her rake for a minute before moving a pile of autumn leaves away from a stormwater drain.

Her curly hair bounces in the wind as she rakes. She is tiny. She makes fun of her lack of grace.

Her gloves are mismatched, jeans are tucked into her rain boots and on this day she wears an old Seattle Sonics sweatshirt.

"I want to bring the Sonics back." She names some of the stars of the 1979 NBA championship team.

Tara hears a car horn and waves at the woman driving by.

"You gotta be happy, because why bring everybody down? I like to keep friends with everybody. We're only here once, so we gotta make the best of it," she said. "Things could always be worse. There's always someone who's got it more rough."

Tara pauses as she thinks about why she does this job, for free.

"I can't help with the sadness in the world. I can't do anything about the wars and stuff," she said. "But this is the town where I live. We have good people here. This is my town. I gotta make it look good. That's why."