-Sylvia Nasar
A BEAUTIFUL MIND
Twenty-five years ago today, September 25, 1987
I wrote the following letter to Paloma last night and mailed it today, September 25, 1987:
September 24, 1987
Thursday Night
Dear Paloma:
I just noticed my last letter to you was dated August 24, 1987. It was only five days later, August 29, 1987 that a tragic event happened in my life. My father died of heart failure. It all happened so fast. It’s still hard to write when I think about him. I miss him. And to know I won’t be able to talk to him when I want to anymore is very hard.
It was Saturday morning when it happened. I called my mom and told her I’d be over shortly. Then she said she heard a noise because she had just awoken herself. She called me back and told me to rush over because she thinks dad had a heart attack. I rushed over and my dad was lying on the couch, looking very pale, in a cold-sweat, and bruised and cut at the forehead as if he’d faller or even been hit by someone. He didn’t look well at all. But of course he claimed he was okay and said he just had indigestion. My brother Tony arrived and we called 911 and the paramedics arrived from the Alameda Fire Department. The firemen asked my dad what day it was. He told them Saturday morning and said that he’d had a few too many beers the night before. When they asked him if he was in pain anywhere he said yes and pointed to the middle of his chest and the fireman said that was too high to be indigestion and that they were going to have to take him to the hospital. And so, I followed the ambulance (my mom road with him).
My mom and I were in the waiting room.
The nurse came out and said, “He will probably be admitted to the hospital and have to stay the next night or two in our critical care unit. He is very ill.”
My Dad’s blood pressure was very low and the nurse said the doctor would be out to talk to us shortly. I figured he was in the hospital so all would be okay. However, I had a feeling it was getting more serious. The nurse came out again and took my mom and me into the emergency unit, into a small room, to wait for the doctor. When the doctor arrived he said, “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.” And, of course, after that statement I believe a major portion of the hospital heard my mom scream. Then I started to cry…then, Tony, my brother, arrived and then John, Sherri and Ashley arrived and were told. It all just happened so fast. The funeral was September 3, 1987. Alas, it is over now, but I miss him very much. I know you met him once. He liked you.
I’ve been trying to get back into the routine of things. I went back to work after a one week absence. I’ve slowly embarked on bike outings and visits to the gym but those are far and few between. My mom went back to work at the post-office this week. She’s doing much better.
I’ve registered for an acting class at the American Conservatory Theater in San Francisco. It begins on October 6, 1987 (Tuesday nights from 6PM to 9PM). I’m going to get a flavor for acting and see if I have potential before I even really go all out into pursuing it. I still do want to return to school for Psychology though.
Here are a couple of photos of me that I had duplicated for you. The one with me in my bike shorts was taken in March 1987 when I was tan and had definite fat rolls showing. The other was just taken on September 17, 1987. I’m wearing my Dad’s lamb’s wool jean jacket and a Donald Duck T-shirt that my mom bought me at Disneyland.
I miss you. How are Jonathan and Alexandre? Send them ‘hello’s’.
I’ll be in touch again sooner or later. I just wanted to let you in on the latest goings on. I only wish it didn’t have to be sad news, but I’m feeling better about the whole thing. It really takes time.
Have a happy day and work on that tummy. I know I’m going to.
Always,
Michael Joe Armijo
PS-My roommate is moving out October 1, 1987 because I told her I was going to raise her rent from $300 to $500 per month. That scared her away. She’s an irresponsible 20 year old that I’ll be glad to get rid of.
PS#2- Stephanie Alexander, the gal I met in Hawaii, is supposed to come and visit me on October 16, 1987. That ought to be fun. She’s nice. I like her but as far as how serious it will all get is yet to be announced. I haven’t seen her since July. I need to see her again to refresh my memory.
The Beginnings – Part 84: ALWAYS HAVE A STRATEGY
September 6, 1983
It is mom’s 48th Birthday today. I phoned her during each of my work breaks. It would have been nice to spend the day with her.
This morning I happened to run into Mary Halverson, a high-school classmate, while waiting for the BART train at the Fruitvale BART station. She’s a real sweetheart. She gave me her business card and wants me to call her. I thought that was very nice of her. She is an attractive redhead (although not of the Ann-Margret quality).
I am also pissed-off at myself for picking up the phone during my break today to call George. I didn’t want to call him at all but I couldn’t help myself. I am so upset at how he suddenly changed his mind about moving-in with me. Someone must have influenced his decision. I really don’t understand it. When we went to that San Jose Flea Market last Sunday he was buying things for his new room. It was only a few hours later that he had changed his mind due to some problem about acquiring stock proceeds/dividends. Needless to say, I had no luck reaching him. He was sleeping when I called during my first break. He was getting ready to go lay out by ‘the pool’ with some neighborhood gal when I called at lunchtime. When I called on my third break he was having lunch with Kevin.
George was abrupt: “I’m having lunch with Kevin. I have to go.”
I will not be calling him anymore. I don’t even thing I want to see those Mel Gibson movies with him on Saturday. He hasn’t called me in so long. It seems as though I’m on a ONE-WAY street.
I telephoned Tammy and she’s going to the gay skating rink tonight. Hmm…interesting.
Tammy said, “I’ll be going with Shawn.”
Work was very busy. I was able to leave the office at five o’clock though. BART is so convenient that I find myself getting home earlier (5:25PM or 5:30PM). It’s better than the driving and dealing with the commuter traffic.
I also called Michael Miller today.
“Why don’t you come over tonight?” I asked.
“Okay…if not tonight maybe tomorrow. I want to see your new pad.”
I am dwelling on my last conversation with George.
George shouted, “You call me a liar all the time!”
In a way, there are times when I know he does lie. Some people lie so well but I can read through him. Why does that creep keep coming up in my mind?
After the BBQ chicken at mom’s house I came home and didn’t wash my car like I had intended. Instead I rode my bike for four rounds along Shoreline Avenue. It was an extensive and invigorating ride. It made me feel good as I was listening to some great, new KQAK tunes like ‘FASCINATION’ by The Human League.
While sipping orange juice at home I got the urge to phone Tammy (aka Tamra K Duhr, b. 1966). I felt like seeing her tonight but I dreaded the idea of visiting the gay skating rink. She somehow persuaded me into going. She always seems to cheer me up with her wild way with words.
I said, “Okay, I’ll go. Why not?”It will make my week move along faster. I figured I could stop over at MACY’s at the Bay Fair Shopping Mall beforehand, too. I wanted to browse. Money is tight and there is no point in spending.
Oh heck! There was a change of plans. Nici had the decency to give me a call and I decided to invite her over to my place because we had such good conversation about her one-night stand, our having a baby together and the fact that Tammy is draining every last drop from me. Nici had a new story about her recent lesbian propositions.
Nici saw photographs of Tony and John and said, “Your brothers are so cute.”
Nici had hinted of jogging over to my place but she didn’t.
I said, “How lazy…you should have jogged over.”
“I know, I know.”
I had jilted Nici that last night at THE TIMBERS when I went ‘hot-tubbing’ with Tammy, so I decided I’d jilt Tammy for Nici tonight.
He had no need to dominate, took no pleasure in commanding; he desired the contemplative far more than the active life, and would have been content to spend many years more, if not his whole life, as an obscure student, an inquiring and reverent pilgrim through the sanctuaries of the past, the cathedrals of music, the gardens and forests of mythology, languages and ideas.
-Hermann Hesse
THE GLASS BEAD GAME
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