Today has been a full day.
Tina was upset this morning. I came home pretty late last night, after an evening spent with friends talking about art, anti-art, and everything in between in every format imaginable. As a matter of fact, the capper of the evening was when Cory, Rachel, and I watched all the musical numbers from Chicago in sucession. She hadn't washed me any clothes for Courtney's visitation this evening, guaranteeing that I would have to go home for a while before heading to Winchester this evening. Such is life.
This afternoon, while I was in the middle of the busiest day I've had at work in months, I return to my desk and hear the telltale sign of Trillian letting me know that I have a Yahoo Message waiting on me. It's Ramona, demanding that I call, because Anthony has an emergency. I am thinking at this point that he is either going to demand that I help him with some computer problem or that some terrible fate involving a car wreck has befallen him. I immediately call and she tells me that he has been busted. I ask for what, and she says, "You know." I think that he's been pulled over and some cop has had his dog with him this particular day. She lets me know it's worse than that, telling a tale of helicoptors and swat teams right there at his house. I promise to do my best to take care of it. Two hours and a few strings later, Anthony is safe at home. We actually met the task force coming off the mountain as we were headed up. I wonder if they saw him in the Jeep with me, half hoping they did not, and half hoping that they did, so that they can see this little battle of the War on Drugs is even stupider than usual. He has a court date coming up, and I'm sure he will be none too happy with the outcome, yet relieved that it isn't worse.
This evening I went to the visitation for Courtney Carpenter. Everything was fine. I was not looking forward to it. I have been less than spectacular about going to visit the Carpenter family in Winchester (read never in the last fifteen years or so) though I had seen Courtney at various family functions. I didn't know what my reaction would be to the visitation. I expected some level of sadness, because I have a daughter of my own not far from that age of course. I read a scrapbook as we moved through the long line, and I looked at the display of pictures that had been arranged in the hallway. As we rounded the last corner and I saw my cousin Quinn standing near the front, receiving guests as required by tradition to do, I wondered how he could stand to stay there for so long listening to countless people wish him well, and knowing that none of them could really feel his pain. I know from a mutual friend that Quinn has been just a little bit suicidal, and I made up my mind to tell him to "Hang in there," but I knew that were I in the same position, I might choose a more final solution myself. As we rounded the front and I saw Courtney there in the casket, looking for all the world like a beautiful sleeping child, I felt my jaws stiffen, and I felt the first tears begin to form in my eyes. I won;t say that I am never emotional, and sometimes I do cry, but never before had I cried in front of so many people. As I approached Quinn, I wondered if he could see the tears in my eyes, and I almost hoped that he could because I felt so guilty for not bringing my own children down to play with Courtney while she was still able to play. I felt guilty for not offering to be there when they needed someone much more than they really needed anyone now. I wanted him to know and understand the reason that I could not see Courtney, but even then I felt guilty for even wanting my own guilt to be absolved. I spoke to him, as he thanked me for coming, and those were the last words that I found myself able to speak until after I left the building. I turned perhaps quicker than most, and walked to my aunt Brucie. I never liked her when I was younger, but she seems to be a completely different person, now. I hugged her and she asked me how I was doing. I nodded against her, and left tears on her shoulder. Then I made for the back exit as quickly as I could.
Tina was upset this morning. I came home pretty late last night, after an evening spent with friends talking about art, anti-art, and everything in between in every format imaginable. As a matter of fact, the capper of the evening was when Cory, Rachel, and I watched all the musical numbers from Chicago in sucession. She hadn't washed me any clothes for Courtney's visitation this evening, guaranteeing that I would have to go home for a while before heading to Winchester this evening. Such is life.
This afternoon, while I was in the middle of the busiest day I've had at work in months, I return to my desk and hear the telltale sign of Trillian letting me know that I have a Yahoo Message waiting on me. It's Ramona, demanding that I call, because Anthony has an emergency. I am thinking at this point that he is either going to demand that I help him with some computer problem or that some terrible fate involving a car wreck has befallen him. I immediately call and she tells me that he has been busted. I ask for what, and she says, "You know." I think that he's been pulled over and some cop has had his dog with him this particular day. She lets me know it's worse than that, telling a tale of helicoptors and swat teams right there at his house. I promise to do my best to take care of it. Two hours and a few strings later, Anthony is safe at home. We actually met the task force coming off the mountain as we were headed up. I wonder if they saw him in the Jeep with me, half hoping they did not, and half hoping that they did, so that they can see this little battle of the War on Drugs is even stupider than usual. He has a court date coming up, and I'm sure he will be none too happy with the outcome, yet relieved that it isn't worse.
This evening I went to the visitation for Courtney Carpenter. Everything was fine. I was not looking forward to it. I have been less than spectacular about going to visit the Carpenter family in Winchester (read never in the last fifteen years or so) though I had seen Courtney at various family functions. I didn't know what my reaction would be to the visitation. I expected some level of sadness, because I have a daughter of my own not far from that age of course. I read a scrapbook as we moved through the long line, and I looked at the display of pictures that had been arranged in the hallway. As we rounded the last corner and I saw my cousin Quinn standing near the front, receiving guests as required by tradition to do, I wondered how he could stand to stay there for so long listening to countless people wish him well, and knowing that none of them could really feel his pain. I know from a mutual friend that Quinn has been just a little bit suicidal, and I made up my mind to tell him to "Hang in there," but I knew that were I in the same position, I might choose a more final solution myself. As we rounded the front and I saw Courtney there in the casket, looking for all the world like a beautiful sleeping child, I felt my jaws stiffen, and I felt the first tears begin to form in my eyes. I won;t say that I am never emotional, and sometimes I do cry, but never before had I cried in front of so many people. As I approached Quinn, I wondered if he could see the tears in my eyes, and I almost hoped that he could because I felt so guilty for not bringing my own children down to play with Courtney while she was still able to play. I felt guilty for not offering to be there when they needed someone much more than they really needed anyone now. I wanted him to know and understand the reason that I could not see Courtney, but even then I felt guilty for even wanting my own guilt to be absolved. I spoke to him, as he thanked me for coming, and those were the last words that I found myself able to speak until after I left the building. I turned perhaps quicker than most, and walked to my aunt Brucie. I never liked her when I was younger, but she seems to be a completely different person, now. I hugged her and she asked me how I was doing. I nodded against her, and left tears on her shoulder. Then I made for the back exit as quickly as I could.
posted by Brinton
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