Still in pain after losing son, she wears her heart on license plate

It has been a brutal couple of weeks on Minnesota highways. On April 25, six young people died in an early morning crash near Cambridge. A week later, two people died in car crashes in St. Cloud and two more in Le Sueur. And in Meeker County two men were killed when their semitrailers collided between Hutchinson and Willmar.

For Barb Degnan, of Edina, each death brings the sting of a new cut, another reminder of the son she lost many years ago. But each death also strengthens her resolve to do something about it.

On Monday, a massive bleeding heart plant bloomed over a rock with the inscription, "Dan's Garden." It's a symbol of the pain she has felt since Dan Carland's death, and perhaps a sign of hope that her goal of making her son's memory have meaning could happen this legislative session: Degnan wants the state to issue a specialty license plate that features a broken heart, so that drivers will have a constant reminder that impaired and inattentive driving leaves many victims.

It may sound like a simple request, but Degnan has opponents. There are more than 70 types of special plates. Some feature college logos. Another honors soldiers with Purple Hearts. There was even a temporary plate promoting the LPGA golf tour (which sailed through the Legislature while Degnan's request was denied). Some legislators think it has gotten out of control and actually become a safety issue because some of the plates are so cluttered they are difficult to read.

Degnan's story is a difficult one to ignore, however, especially this spring as drunken-driving deaths and crashes blamed on cell phone use and texting fill the news.

Degnan can still vividly recall the night this became her issue: Christmas Eve, 1992. Dan was a student at the University of Arizona, where he was studying business. At Blake High School, he had been a smart and popular kid, the homecoming king and captain of the football team. He had a promising future.

Dan was home for the holidays and went out with some friends. His parents had repeatedly stressed safety issues with Dan, so his group had a designated driver that night. But it wouldn't matter.

'He was a really cool kid'

"I really will never understand the effect of 'the perpetual presence of the absence of a child,'" said Degnan, who was trained as a nurse but now spends her time doing volunteer work. "Obviously it changed everyone's life, forever. He was a really cool kid."

Rep. Bernie Lieder, DFL-Crookston, chairman of the House Transportation Finance and Policy Division, is a well-known curmudgeon on the issue, and he makes some sense. He thinks people should express their opinions and their pride on bumper stickers, not license plates. He has also proposed, rightly, to eliminate those plates that are not requested much.

"We have so many of these plates law enforcement is really concerned," Lieder said. "At night they can't read the plates and can't even tell which state they are from."

Degnan recognizes that specialty plates have gotten out of hand, but she says her request is different, and timely. Unlike other plates, any money collected above the cost will not go to a charity or school, but rather to the state. The extra charge of $10 to choose the special plate would offset the price, about $6. And it would be the only license plate that deals with public safety.

"I think the symbol [of a broken heart] is very important," Degnan said. "And it would be right in front of you when you drive."

The bill recently passed the Senate with bipartisan support of Rep. Geoff Michel, R-Edina and Rep. Steve Murphy, D-Red Wing, and will go to the House soon.

18 Christmases

"The Degnans are doing public policy education," Michel said. "As a dad, I think we do need to talk about drunk driving and impaired driving with our kids, and we've had some tragic reminders of accidents like Dan's in recent weeks." Degnan has worked with others in grief groups, and notes that they often die earlier than expected. "It's a sad way to deal with life," she said.

"It's been 18 Christmases since Dan died," Degnan said. "The pain is always there, but it does change, because if it didn't, you wouldn't be able to live through it."