Wednesday, September 10, 2003
In the Naked City
On TV tonight there are protests over proposed new construction on the site of the WTC. I don't know if I object to new construction on the "sacred ground" -- I had thought new construction was the plan all along, viewing proposals for both monuments and buildings. But the protestors had been told there would *never* be new construction on the site -- by Guiliani and others? Well, someone.
Yeah, it was a shocking day two years ago, but what I remember is contrasting that day with the day and evening before.
On September 10, 2001, I was doing some on-line research (oops, and using work resources), trying to locate an old boyfriend, LF. I lived with LF in Philadelphia -- it had been sudden and an intense six months or so. I left him just as suddenly because of jealousy, mood swings, shouting accusations. After some tearful telephone calls, some that threatened suicide, and others that included his dad on the line as mediator, we had agreed to write letters (only). And, we had stayed in touch for a few years -- even after I had moved to Indiana and he had moved to Florida. I lost touch with him, kind of on purpose, when I moved on to Colorado.
While I had had little luck in finding mention of him on google, for whatever reason, I turned to Florida death records. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, but it was weird to see his name and then-age in the 1996 Tampa obits -- already five years previous. To make sure, I paid for an archival news service, and shore nuff, it was him. I still remember the eery "Mr. F was Jewish and died at home." It included his estranged mom as next of kin, and through additional research I was able to locate an address -- a condo in a swanky Philadelphia suburb.
After work, I met KL for drinks in one of those loud and trendy chains a dime-a-dozen on North Academy: What did he die from? Should I contact his mom? What would I say? Would it even be appropriate?
Those actions and thoughts now seem worthless. What a difference from then! Both KL and I took transfers to here; and I never contacted LF's mom. Should I yet?
And I think of LF -- a troubled guy, searching for himself, brilliant in many ways. I picture him riding his motorcycle over the bridge to St. Petersburg. (He once sent me a letter telling me he did that.)
There's been a lot of speculations on the WTC terrorists. I can only guess on the circumstances around LF's death. We'll probably never find out the answers.
Yeah, it was a shocking day two years ago, but what I remember is contrasting that day with the day and evening before.
On September 10, 2001, I was doing some on-line research (oops, and using work resources), trying to locate an old boyfriend, LF. I lived with LF in Philadelphia -- it had been sudden and an intense six months or so. I left him just as suddenly because of jealousy, mood swings, shouting accusations. After some tearful telephone calls, some that threatened suicide, and others that included his dad on the line as mediator, we had agreed to write letters (only). And, we had stayed in touch for a few years -- even after I had moved to Indiana and he had moved to Florida. I lost touch with him, kind of on purpose, when I moved on to Colorado.
While I had had little luck in finding mention of him on google, for whatever reason, I turned to Florida death records. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, but it was weird to see his name and then-age in the 1996 Tampa obits -- already five years previous. To make sure, I paid for an archival news service, and shore nuff, it was him. I still remember the eery "Mr. F was Jewish and died at home." It included his estranged mom as next of kin, and through additional research I was able to locate an address -- a condo in a swanky Philadelphia suburb.
After work, I met KL for drinks in one of those loud and trendy chains a dime-a-dozen on North Academy: What did he die from? Should I contact his mom? What would I say? Would it even be appropriate?
Those actions and thoughts now seem worthless. What a difference from then! Both KL and I took transfers to here; and I never contacted LF's mom. Should I yet?
And I think of LF -- a troubled guy, searching for himself, brilliant in many ways. I picture him riding his motorcycle over the bridge to St. Petersburg. (He once sent me a letter telling me he did that.)
There's been a lot of speculations on the WTC terrorists. I can only guess on the circumstances around LF's death. We'll probably never find out the answers.