In 1973 during the summer, I have a memory
of visiting with Eddie sitting on a Desk from one
of our old labs, in our playroom. I thought it was the first time
that I had met him, but it turns out it was right before they moved.
I was around 13 and he was 15. And I was certain
that he was the coolest kid and that if he wanted to
spend time with me that would mean I was cool.
But he never came out and the older kids wouldn’t let
me wait with them to see if he would come out.
The day that he came out to visit with
me we sat and talked in our playroom and I knew I was cool.
But I was told by my sister that I never knew him
and that she did not know when he died.
No one in my family ever talked about Disneyland,
or Hearst Castle.
They had never talked about the Alamo. I was younger
and can see the inside of the Fort and the
Soda Fountain down the street. And I read the adult
book that my mother got me. I read the book
at Little Big Horn, and I was younger.
But I don’t remember Disneyland at seven.
Or Hearst Castle. Or the Ocean.
September 