Remembering a life struck down too soon

On a wet, muggy August morning five years ago, my son and I cycled along the Wissahickon Creek in Montgomery County on our way to Center City. Heavy rain slowed to a steady drizzle when we turned left off Northwestern Avenue onto Forbidden Drive. It was early and the trail was deserted. Obviously, the weather kept the usual runners and cyclists in the comfort of their warm beds.

After we passed Valley Green, flashing lights and Fairmount Park trucks appeared up ahead. We stopped and watched workers milling around a large tree limb that had fallen across the path.

I caught the attention of one of the workers and asked if we could get through. He looked at me without answering, and then turned back toward the tree.

The workers, my son, and I were the only ones on the trail that morning. The path didn't seem impassable. What's the big deal, I thought. I was agitated.

Finally, the guy looked back at me and in a somber tone said: "OK, but be careful not to disturb anything. Someone was killed here last night."

I ducked under yellow tape, maneuvered my bike between trucks and heavy equipment, picked it up, and stepped over the large tree limb. A sensation I'd experienced visiting hallowed ground like ground zero at the World Trade Center or the Bloody Lane at Antietam filled me. I lowered my head in respect for the life that ended the evening before.

That afternoon I read that Mary Katherine "Katie" Ladany, a young, spirited teacher from Montclair, N.J., who had relocated to Philly, was out for a run when the improbable fate of a promising life crossed paths with a falling branch of a tulip poplar tree.

Katie, 23, had just finished her first year of teaching at Dobbins Technical High School. She left an enduring mark on every life she touched. I wondered about Katie's aspirations, her passions, what she had planned for Wednesday night after her run. I thought about her family, friends, fellow teachers, her students.

As a runner and father, I feel a connection to Katie. I've jogged or cycled Forbidden Drive for decades and countless times have passed the spot where her life ended. A typical young person full of energy, Katie liked to visit popular establishments in Manayunk with friends, some of the same haunts my four kids patronize. Perhaps one of my sons or daughter had been in a pub at the same time as Katie.

The fifth anniversary of that tragic evening is approaching. Scores of joggers, cyclers, and strollers fill the trail each day, yet it is unlikely the loss of a young life will register a fleeting thought. That is sad. It seems to me it would be a proper tribute to place a memorial there in honor of Katie's spirit, so all who visit Philly's favorite park trail will remember.

The intersection of a tree limb and a pedestrian in a park system with more than 4,000 acres and approximately 2.5 million trees is as likely as an angel appearing on the jogging path. Perhaps, then, a memorial in Katie's honor could be fittingly named "Angel on Forbidden Drive."