shaken and stirred

I was stirred but not shaken when a young friend was arrested for DUI after going out for a night on the town and getting tangled up with a tree on Storrow Drive. He totalled his car, spent a night in jail, and said he was lucky to have made the decision earlier that evening not to drink as much as usual. Also, no one was injured, at least not severely. This was unlucky night, times-up night, not amateur night.

He was also fortunate that he was not arrested in the small towns he usually drives through. In Boston, the police have much more exciting activities on their hands. They probably just wanted to get him processed through the system so they could get on with the rest of their night's work. He's already been to court and has lost his license for a mere 45 days, but doesn't seem to be skipping too many beats. I hope that this experience will be a deterrant for future adventures in the same area, but we'll have to see.


The shaking up happened later. First came news that a security guard, whom I did not know, leapt to his death off the third-floor balcony of the building I worked in for many years. (Note to KAH: yes, that building.) He landed on the rough stone lobby floor. Friends who still work in that building are just horrified and are avoiding the balconies at all costs. That dumb old company was at least smart enough to bring in counsellors and allow a memorial service to be held.


The shaking up continued. On two recent warm Fridays, two weeks apart, a friend and I sat outdoors at the local coffee house and visited with each other. On both occasions, a woman named Linda stopped by and talked with us. She was sweet and full of energy and talked of her caring for the town and the environment. She was curious and laughed easily and had terrible teeth. In passing, and very lightly, she mentioned that the alcoholic rehab center at our local hospital was very nice. I must have raised my eyebrows slightly because she said that she'd stayed there but only for a short while.

Then last Friday, I saw my friend again. She reported that Linda had not shown up at work for a few days in a row and her coworkers had sent the police to check on her. Linda had died of an overdose earlier in the week, just a few days after we last saw her. Her sister had already come to collect her things and had gone home again.

I'd like to think that the overdose was unintentional -- the person I last saw was so full of life. It saddens me to think of people who struggle so hard with their addictions -- who move toward the light but can never quite get there or who run out of time. It's not a pity, it's a heart break.


There are happier events in my life. On a more cheerful note, I will try to write about dance camp soon, but I felt I had to mention these events first.