TEEN'S ONE-NIGHT MISTAKE CARRIED A HIGH PRICE

Haven't all the words been written.

Yes.

Hasn't the river of tears flowed steadily from coast to coast for the last
generation or so. Yes.

Is there anything new to say about what can happen when a teenager relies
on drugs for the big buzz but ends up dead instead.

No.

Knowing all that, I make no pretense of having anything to add about the
death of 18-year-old Cathy Isford, the Foothill High School senior who fell
into a coma on prom night last Saturday after taking Ecstasy, possibly in
combination with other drugs.

She was taken off life support Tuesday.

That isn't to say this young woman's death doesn't hurt. It hurts not
because I know her, but because she represents all those teenagers who
threaten their well-being every time they play with fire. Most of the time,
the fire doesn't catch them. When it does, there's often no escape.

This is no oldster's lecture to teenagers. My generation taught its
children everything. Ours would be the last to moralize about drug use. To
make matters worse, we continue it to this day by drinking ourselves stupid
and then complaining when youngsters do the same.

But if it sounds to teenagers like we're harping on them, it's only because
they mistake nagging for a plaintive cry.

It's one thing to read about a 50-year-old's death. It's another to read
about an 18-year-old's that could have been prevented.

Maybe you have to be middle-aged to scream internally at a life snuffed out
over a one-night mistake. The irony of Isford's death is that her older
sister said she cautioned her sister after the younger sibling said she was
going to take the drugs to make the prom "a perfect night."

The cries of anguish from the Isford family and circle of friends will
reverberate for a lifetime over that poignant reminder.

Every high school teacher and principal know about these risks. They see
the kids every day, perhaps more than the kids see their parents.

I asked one of them--an assistant principal at a different Orange County
high school--how he deals with the ever-present threat that one of his
students could end up like Isford. Does he put up an emotional shield.

"Not if you care for kids," he says, adding that he makes a point of
telephoning a student's parents if he suspects he or she might be on drugs.

This administrator knows all too well what is going on now at Foothill. The
grieving for Isford will continue, and for a while, her schoolmates may be
sobered to the real dangers out there.

But he and I know such fears will pass. As all generations have done, this
one will continue to put itself at risk. And some will end up on the roster
of unlucky losers who instead of experiencing life will lose it.

It also hurts because these aren't bad kids.

"Some of the most wonderful kids I ever had the opportunity to meet have
found themselves going down that path," the assistant principal says.
"Despite being intelligent, active, athletes or performers ... yet, there
they were."

Nor do these kids have death wishes. To the contrary, they think they can
handle anything. "If you ask the typical 16-year-old what they want to do
with their life, for a lot of them the time frame is real short," the
administrator says. "They're thinking about next month."

I think he's tapped the source of my sadness over this girl I didn't know.
It's the death of someone who never saw it coming, who never bothered to
ask if the one-night high carried a price tag like the one she paid.

In that, she is no different from thousands of other teens.

Because we can't stop them from feeling immortal, we can at least let them
know we curse the fates that claimed them. We can let them know we don't
just chalk up another death to simply being "one of those things."

In our apparent inability to prevent such tragedies, we can at least let
those left behind know we're hoping against hope they somehow become
smarter than we were.