lighthouse acknowledges the astronaut

In my dream you were packing up to leave this world, so we threw you a block party. It got out of hand from the start. People kept showing up from all over the world to see you off. It was like some rich folks' wedding where the father of the bride gives a count of the number of countries represented during his toast. There were Inuits and Japanese, Germans and Newfies, Swedes and Chinese, even a guy from South Jersey below exit 2. A couple none of us had ever met was going at it on the coffee table, egged on by a guy in a rhinestone jumpsuit come to think of it none of us had ever met either. About a hundred people were breakdancing in teams of a dozen or more.

A group of kids were doing keg stands behind the Robinson's shed. You joined them briefly in your own, then chugged another beer for good measure. I know you passed on weed, which seemed like the right idea for your last night on earth, one never knows how that's going to go.

People were shooting bottle rockets at each other, like Dutch new year. The music grew in volume until the cops came. We explained the situation and they did keg stands as well. Then they left and soon came again. They issued us a warning that time, but it was clear they were just making sure they were back before the keg got kicked. People kept kissing you on the cheek.

The air was part bitter, part sweet. It wasn't totally clear which side of that you came down on, but I suspect sweet. You were tapping your feet to the music, which was something big band and which everybody seemed to understand the vibe of that night.

When you and I talk an issue straight on one of us always presses too hard, leaving the other to sit on regret for months after. Recognizing that we didn't have that kind of time we talked instead about spring training, about the Eagles off-season moves. You asked me how my wife and son were and I said they were fine, everything was fine. That was really you asking me if everything would be okay and me replying that I thought it would be, that I hoped to God it would be.

When you left we were kind of worried about your driving, but there wasn't much point. Everybody kept coming back to give you another hug. Ruby had packed a care package of road beer, potato chips, and a toasted pastrami sandwich. As you left we flicked the light on the front porch per Freeman custom, the lighthouse acknowledging the astronaut. Cops followed you home, playing Earl Hines loud out of bullhorns mounted on top of their cars.

stress test/wishing you well

I had a stress test this week. Because when I went on vacation this winter when I went out into the water for the first time it felt like my chest had cold fingers stretched inside it, for a long minute. The water was beautiful, crisp and the sunlight had worked out a mutually beneficial arrangement with it. The fingers eventually retracted and maybe it was all my imagination.

I had a stress test because I had a checkup and told a doctor. They shaved my chest in a few places and stuck EKG wires on the cleared skin, then I got on a treadmill. Printer paper spat out the results like a seismograph.

At the end of the test the computer froze. The Windows hourglass for suspense. The tech and the nurse said that happens sometimes. Then the printer changed its pace and a single dense sheet like a photograph started to print. It looked like a Cornell box. An aged wooden box painted navy blue, held together by rusty nails. The box was open so you could see the objects inside. A long lock of a woman's hair. A diecast replica of the Space Shuttle Challenger. A birthday card from my mom's mom that I thought I hadn't saved. And all the mean things I'd ever said to you. They said that happens sometimes, and they'd send the results on to my GP.

We were good friends and that made it seem perfect for us to work together. I know how we pictured it was different than how it turned out. It ended up with both of us stuck pushing forever in opposite directions. It's painful to me because we did good work together. None of it changed the world (which was different from how I pictured it.) But maybe some of it prevented the world from getting worse in small areas that two other people wouldn't have noticed. Maybe it stalled some inevitable decline.

Man, I'm proud of you for seeing we were stuck and making a change. I think I would have been willing to keep pushing until it broke. Maybe it did break and I didn't notice. I'm sorry it got to this. But I wish you well.

The other day in the office you had all your papers in trash bags. A decade worth of records of your good fight. I'm glad I got to help you with some of that. I'm sorry so much energy got wasted trying to make you see my perfect vision of the world.

My hope is that when this shakes out and I'm over here and you're over there we can think of each other and know the other one is trying to make things better. That neither of us is alone in that. Maybe one day we'll be able to talk about it.