Friday, June 22, 2007


Off to Maine for the next week and a half. J's home state, Dad's home state, and my adopted state. It's my second home and a refuge from my overwhelming first one.

This will be my week:

1. Watching the Sox with Dad
2. Eating tunafish sandwiches
3. Re-reading the last Harry Potter before the new one comes out
4. Hiking every day
5. Canoeing around Bass Harbor
6. Eating Moose Tracks ice cream
7. Driving around the island listening to the Mekons
8. Watching the rain slide down the pines
9. Drinking Sea Dog blueberry beer
10. Being alone or with J with nobody else in sight on the top of a mountain with the sea encircling the island.

Not too bad.

Two thrilling developments: the entire Allen clan came down to Brooklyn last weekend and we saw Hairspray, drank a boatload of exotic beer, fried on the deck, ate like kings, and celebrated Sam's second birthday with carrot cake and balloons. Pics to come.

Also, J's parents got me a Dyson Root 6 handheld vacuum for my birthday. It's the Hummer of handheld vacs. It also looks like a weapon from Total Recall:

It's freaking incredible. You should see this thing suck. One irrefutable sign of maturity/lameness is getting so excited about receiving a handheld vacuuming appliance that you can't get to sleep due to your anticipation of working on the carpet the following morning.

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Savannah Smiles

Certain Wednesdays are "work from home" days, where I try to avoid the 74 degree weather outside and concentrate on getting work done. I'm usually unsuccessful.

I figured it was a good time to see a dietician this afternoon due to my cholesterol, which is abominable. (See earlier post about the Garbage Plate for documentation.) So today I was cruising the web and catching up on nutrition facts and ways to keep in shape. My 32-year old gut is expanding, my hair's turning gray, I'm having a hard time hearing people, and an hour of tossing a frisbee on Sunday has made me ache for the last 3 days. I'm getting old and crotchety.

Anyway...upon the crests and troughs of my surfing session, one thing led to another and I found myself on YouTube, as usual. I'm planning a trip to Grand Cayman, so I searched for some footage of it. This led to footage of Savannah, Cayman; then to random footage of Savannah, Georgia; and then to a blurry screencap of a girl with sun flares in the lens, titled "Savannah Watson, Forever in Our Hearts."

Say what you want about tribute videos -- they're usually poorly done, painful to watch, and usually accompanied by the thoroughly depressing hits of Bette Midler or Boys II Men. But I always have to watch them. And this one was different.

It's not a photo montage. It's video footage of a teenage girl at a playground in late afternoon, holding the camera at arms length, spinning around. And she's smiling, and Nick Drake's singing softly, and it's heartbreaking. She's probably sixteen or seventeen, with a smile that only teenage girls can conjure. At the end, she walks away and the picture fades to white.

It was so real that I figured it was made up. I decided to Google her and figure out what happened. First, I came across a news piece from 2005 in which she and her mother are interviewed. Apparently, she was friends with a girl who lived next door who was held captive and abused by the girl's father for over a year.

After that, I found the story about her accident. She was in the passenger seat of a Toyota 4-Runner in Arizona at 4:30 on a Monday morning with her friend Heather, who was nineteen. She lost control, crossed the median, and was hit by another truck. They died, and the two men in the truck lived. She was fifteen.

It was real, then. I found her friend's MySpace page with a tribute to her, then Savannah's MySpace page with messages from her friends over the last year. At this point it was hard not to feel like I was going too far, finding out too much information about her, invading her privacy - which wasn't hers anymore. YouTube and Google and MySpace had seen to that.

There was one last page. It was from the girl who did her eulogy, and it's all about regrets. She explains that the driver of the car was on Ecstasy. She says that Savannah "was a great, sincere, honest person, which our world seems to be sincerely lacking," and that "she will never know what it's like to get a drivers license, live in the dorms, get married, and have children."

She urges us to tell people how much we love them. "You never know when it'll be too late," she says.

Life can beat us down and turn us into shapes we don't recognize, but we manage to eke out some good times. There's no doubt about that. So for everyone out there who's shared these times - and beatings - with me, I love ya. And don't ever let me bitch about getting older.