TheBanyanTree: The Street, Part !!

[Terri W.]

Information has drifted in about the "pedestrian/vehicle accident" two weeks ago.  There's not very much here to make us feel better.  The driver of the car was a 19-year-old man/boy.  Going too fast and talking on his cell phone.  He insists the pedestrian stepped right in front of his vehicle.  Which is true.  The pedestrian was in a crosswalk, stepping in front of many vehicles.  The others were stopped.

The pedestrian?  Bill Wingrad (not his real name, but close).  A 43-year-old actor, playwright, and screenwriter.  Like many, many, many in this neighborhood.  He was a member of the theatre group up the street Company of Angels.  They are the ones who brought in to Trader Joe's an obituary and photo of Bill and notice of memorial services.  The photo is familiar to many of us; Bill was a regular customer.

Bill was gay (not important) and had a partner who we will continue to see.  He hasn't come into the store yet.  Bill was originally from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.  The son of a preacher.  There was a memorial service at his Myrtle Beach church last Saturday.  In lieu of flowers, the family asked that donations be sent to the Myrtle Beach Humane Society.

I thought I might send something.  I thought often of the Reverend and his wife, trying to figure out why God would take their bright, handsome son so arbitrarily.  I thought of how nice it was for them to think of the Humane Society.  I hope someone knows me well enough to suggest the same thing.

I wondered if the parents had ever come to L.A.  If they knew what crosswalk it was, how busy the street is.  If I were Bill's parent, I would have to come see it now.  I think.  Who knows how one would feel if in that terrible position?

I posted a notice at the store, saying I was sendig something to the Humane society, and suggesting people donate at the Captain's Desk, and we could send it as a crew.  I knew I wanted to send the parents a note, and I thought it'd be rude to ignore the charity.  After a week, though, only $10 had come in.  People have moved on.  And we are not paid much.  They have their own families.

One day I was in the kitchen, sitting near the posted note.  Another crew member gestured to it.  "You're doing that, Sidda?"

I nodded.

"Did you know him?"

I shook my head.

"Then can I ask you... why?"

I turned to look at her.  She was scowling at me.

"You weren't here that night, were you, Julia?"  I said.

"No, but that doesn't matter.  I still didn't know him."

"I think maybe if you had been here, you wouldn't be asking me "why."

There was a hush in the room.  Half a dozen people froze.  Somehow the conversation segued into how we all learned about September 11.

I don't know what to do about sending money to the Humane Society.  I think anything less than $100 from a crew is sort of... lame.  But I did write the note.  I can send it in care of the church.

"Dear Reverend and Mrs. Wingrad,

Crew members from this Trader Joe's were outside the store on the evening of January 20.  We were the first to reach your son, Bill, and we stayed with him, touching him and talking to him, until help arrived about two minutes later.

Please be assured that your son's spirit took flight immediately, and remained aloft.  He witnessed the scene from above.  He was surprised, no doubt, but never in pain.

Bill's death has affected this crew, this neighborhood, and this entire community deeply.  We hoped it might comfort you a little tolearn more about those minutes from those who were there.  Your son was never alone, and never in pain.

He, and you, will remain in our hearts.

Respectfully,

The Crew of
Trader Joe's Store #17"

I think that says what I want it to.  I don't know if it's reassuring or not.  I wonder if I should change "surprised, no doubt" to "surprised, perhaps."  Maybe Bill didn't like surprises.  I really don't want to say "he didn't know what hit him."  But he didn't.  Should I keep the repetition of "never in pain"...?

Maybe I shouldn't send this.  Maybe that is the source of this nagging feeling.  Or is it Julia, and the paltry $10?  Or the poignancy of writing to a Reverend and his wife?

What do you think?  Should I send this or not?  Just move on, like the rest?  What would you like to hear from those at the scene of the death of your child?  Are there any words of comfort?  I have no idea now.