Saying hi to old geezers

After many months, Dominic came through for me.  “Spoke to a mutual buddy about Ed the welder.  His last name is Novell (sp?) If you have any luck, I’d like to say hi to the old geezer!” 

This was after I had just read that his lawyer had sickened and died of cancer in the middle of the trial, and he’d had to represent himself because he was allowed no time to find another lawyer.  I hate that detail.

I looked up Ed’s address on the web and wrote him a letter.  Seven days later he called me at home.  It was the easiest and most significant part of this whole search.   It was a moving, surreal conversation, and I learned a lot that evening.  I even took notes furiously throughout our time on the phone; having done a little bit of reporting I can recognize good quotes when I hear them.  And in a gruff voice heavy with Boston accent, they were spilling from him. 

“This was gonna be the ultimate. Your dad had the right idea.  It was a big boat, a beautiful boat.  He took on a hell of a job, starting from scratch like that. That takes gumption.  I know your father worked pretty hard.  I used to think about him, ask him what I should do now when I was welding.  This wasn’t just a whim, this was serious.  I had big dreams for that boat.  Anyone who has a sailboat is a dreamer.”

That particular dream died for him after his divorce.  “I almost cried when they pulled it out of my driveway.  It was just about done.  But I just couldn’t keep it.  I never even got to name it.  I figured I was going to save that for the christening.  But I never had her under power.”  The man who bought the boat from him was “a colored guy with an afro and a strong British accent.” He bought her with cash.  “He probably ran drugs, I dunno.  He was throwing around money like it was nothing.  He introduced himself, but me and names just don’t make it.”

The notes I took that day on the phone with Ed are barely legible, I was writing so fast and vibrating with new information.  But on one page there is a very clear and painful sentence.  “I think you reached a dead end, to tell you the truth.”