let the bastard take you to the place where scott fell.
my mother thought it would be a good idea to go there last week.
take the whole family
it'll be "fun"
and there we were at the place where scott fell over 10 years ago.
over 100 stories he fell on a cool sunny day into a pile of rubble where two pools sit now for each tower that is no longer there.
overlooked by the shadow of the future of this area.
just recently, it was deemed taller than the empire state building again.
i almost didn't want to find scott.
but i also needed to.
you see, there's this film i saw once called a foreign field and it was about a bunch of veterans returning to normandy for the 50th anniversary of d-day and most were the veterans and their annoying suburban families and this lone woman played by laurean bacall.
everyone likes her.
she's insightful. she's mysterious. her brother served in the war and she wanted to pay homage.
only in the end, she went to a small cemetary set aside for the deceased german soldiers and a gut punch was had by all.
because the german died that day too.
but i digress.
i wandered around the sight.
sort of disgusted by the tourists, and the harajuku girls taking kawaii photos of themselves in front of the pools that were there for you to reflect on the dead.
i looked for some jackass wearing a "i went to ground zero and all i got was this lousy t-shirt"
as i always suspected, erecting a memorial would dilute the meaning of the events. perhaps the big smoking hole would have served as a better reminder to these people.
but no. it has to be pretty.
washed away.
clean.
i wondered chatting with the boy, and my wife, and my mom, and my daughter.
...and then i got punched in the gut.
you see, it wasn't really that hard to find. even when you think you aren't looking for something.
and there he was.
where the north tower used to be.
scott has a nice spot.
in the shade.
under a tree.
under a tower.
where scott fell.
and we all wept.
and a good time was had by all.
—the bastard
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