Saturday, June 25th, 2005, 5:01 p.m.
I arrived in the U.S. almost six weeks ago. First impressions: Nicholas Cage in a stupid, fun airplane movie (National Treasure). Official announcements in English. My father helping me with my luggage - FINALLY having someone help me with my luggage. Being actually, physically overwhelmed by the wealth of an American grocery store -- a whole wall full of apples, pears, oranges, plums, strawberries, carrots, celery, red pepper, yellow pepper, orange pepper, green pepper, watercress, jalapeņos, you name it. Everything in stock, and you could tell it was always in stock. I felt lucky if my local fruit and vegetable stand in Barcelona had broccoli -- I mean it was a really big deal for me. American light switches. The utter quality of American television advertising. Being presented with so many choices for deodorant I actually dreaded going shopping for it because I knew I'd be so overwhelmed. Knowing the name of the Spanish president and realizing that no normal American does. Violence on TV - unavoidable unless you watch sports of the History channel, which is all about war. I mean really - I watched at least one person die on television every day I turned it on, until I made a concerted effort not to. It made my stomach hurt. I had never really realized before how many shows and movies here deal with death or murder or serial killers or gruesome rape. CSI; Law and Order; made-for-TV movies about crowbar killings in cornfields; the news. I literally don't think I saw a single person die on Spanish TV unless it was in a (dubbed) American movie. Books in English. Understanding everything that went on around me, when my Dad spoke with his friends, when my stepmom picked up the phone, when I turned on the radio - everything. American light switches. I know I already put that one but I noticed it so many times I had to put it in twice. American traditions - Memorial Day b-b-q's; strawberry shortcake; an array of peanut butter at the store; people mowing their lawns. Houses and yards so big people had to mow their lawns. The grocery store staying open until 9 or 10pm! (This was a HUGE one). The sheer, stupefying convenience of the United States. Being with family again. Being able to call long-distance. Being able to call without an 11-hour time difference. Riding in the car with my Dad with the windows down and my hand out, enjoying the wind and company. Comfortable, family love.
Of course, all of this was additionally tinted with a strange and unrelenting sadness because upon my arrival I found out that my cousin Noah was missing. My Dad and I went up to the Cape to look for him, but he was gone. We spent two days looking, his father spent weeks, and the State Police spent thousands of dollars, but he was gone and never came back. About two weeks ago his body was found in a pond near his home. It was a tragic ending to a terrible story.
Other memories from my father's house: Comfortable in the den with a hot cup of tea, watching endless Red Sox games while Dad woke himself with his snoring on his barco-lounger. Visiting with Duncan and Donna and appreciating the beauty of Westerly park with its weeping willows and fountains of draped marble women. My father lives in a lovely town. Going for a jog in that long New England dusk - the world at sunset which makes everything crisper, more even, golden. Trying to keep up with Lula's (the dog) soccer-ball fetish in the yard; riding my bike into town to go grocery shopping and buy a Boston hat; baking fresh bread and pumpkin muffins; having the time to spend an entire afternoon reading a novel. Visiting with my best friend on the East Coast, Katie, and staying up until 3 in the morning talking about ... stuff.
My time on the East Coast was simultaneously relaxing, upsetting, familiar, challenging, awful, and wonderful. There were perfect, fresh spring days working on the mast of the Free Boat, and lonely, stormy days when thoughts of Noah and his parents clouded over everything, through which I saw only pain and anxiety.
Noah's funeral was a week from yesterday. I wrote the following for him, which was read by my cousin, his half-sister, Hannah.
For my cousin
This is how I will always remember Noah: stealing my bike - the interminable Sea Princess - against the backdrop of the nuclear power plant, to pedal to meet up with the gang at Katie's house, where he would suck on a thousand and one colored freeze pops while playing Gameboy on the couch.
We were the Curtin cousins, hanging out with the beach kids, doing Bloody Mary and leaying around in the sun, playing kemps and perching on big rocks by the water while we talked about nothing for hours on end.
These were our summers, and these will forever be my memories of childhood: jumping off the bridge with Noah and company, staying up talking with Noah when he had to sleep on the cot next to the bed upstairs (I always got the bed), Noah making up "One day Katie was so tall" stories with Colin, Noah eating a hamburger at the big family reunion, Noah on my bike with no hands.
Noah felt life strongly, the way I do. He was pushy, edgy, enthusiastic, loud, funny, crazy, made great faces, and was never boring. Once, I remember that Janice had cooked a nice meal for all of us at the cottage and I was cleaning up. In my house, those who cook don't clean. So I started to clear the table and was in the kitchen about to start washing dishes when Noah came in.
"GOD, Mel, you're so *responsible*," he said, exasperated. He wanted to jump on the sea princess and leave the work to the grown-ups. But he stayed. He dried every dish I washed, and you know what? I think he liked it. He did it for me.
Granny's beach was a special place. It was a time-warp: the corner store sold 5-cent candies; no one's house was more than 4 blocks away; the ice-cream truck always came in the afternoon, and there was literally nothing to do but swim and sun. My cousin, for me, will always exist in this place, a simple, carefree, happy place. We were laughing - we were always laughing. We had so many inside jokes we had to write them all down at the end and they always filled pages. So Noah, wherever you are, never forget playing charades - "Fat", "Up", and "From here." Don't forget making fun of me after my first kiss, which was with your best friend, playing with Mason when Colin wasn't around, shuckin' the corn, and playing mini-golf at Ocean Beach. Don't forget when your Mom banged on the cottage door while we were playing bloody mary, scaring us all out of our minds; don't forget having Katie's dad and your mom bail you guys out after getting arrested for "littering and loitering", or how hard we laughed after. Don't forget the seaweed fight, the stalker face, teaching fremont the dukes of hazard card game, feeding the water rats, your whole friendship with Colin. Don't forget these things, because they were a part of your life, and they were wonderful.
I love you. You will be missed.
