Byways of Hell

My son, Seth, was 23 years old. He had just graduated from University of Washington in the Spring and was turning his considerable intelligence and focus towards his passion for guitar playing and songwriting. Even though his band, Courtney Killed Kurt, had broken up, he was planning to assemble a new group when his best friend and musical soulmate, J.T., returned from a summer of travel abroad. Then....bam. A 25 year old man drove up a hill on a side street, accelerating the whole way, and went through a stop sign into an arterial street and struck Seth's car. Dead at the scene. No do-overs. The evil one was not D.U.I. so he wasn't arrested, or for all I know, even written a ticket. Of course, he has no insurance.

I watched the Seahawks last Sunday with a ghost at my elbow and longing in my heart. Seth and I would have been watching probably, or might have gone to the game, but no more. Ever. You see that period at the end of that sentence? Ponder its insignificance combined with its terrible infiniteness. My wife started the day in tears, and is finishing it that way. I tried to talk to her, but she had nothing to say to me. Later she called her sister and they talked at length. Part of me is relieved she talked and part of me is angry she wouldn't talk to me.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Seattle, Vincent Santiago, is drinking a beer and goofing off with his friends. Seth's sister is in Munich Germany at school and started the year telling her new acquaintences that she was only child, because she just didn't know what to say. Our many friends with children look at us with pity, and some hidden relief that it wasn't their child.

Go find a book by Ted Rosenthal. Might be out of print. He died of leukemia in his 30's back about 1974. The book is "How Could I Not Be Among You" and it will break your heart and maybe make you cherish what you have. Ted warns you there is a world of pain out there and it will reach you sometime. Thanks for the warning, Ted, but it didn't help me avoid it. I hope you and my boy are writing songs together.