Normally, I go to bed earlier than this. But I'm on my holidays, so I'm sitting in bed catching up on the articles quickly backing up my Google reader. Tonight, two very different things happen.
1. I discover this article from Esquire (yes, I subscribe to their site). Last month, I listened to an audio version of True Story by Michael Finkel. The book outlines his "friendship" with Christian Longo, a man eventually convicted of killing his wife and three children, and tells the story of Longo's arrest & trial. It is a fascinating and complex story. My roommate Lynsey and I were so fully absorbed in listening to it while driving across Vancouver Island that we let ourselves drive right into near-blizzard conditions. (Actually a funny story, knowing we survived.) But this was too intense and disturbing for pitch-black driving on a wintry night, so we turned it off and waited until we were safely out of the mountains before finding out the jury's sentence.
Finding this article has sucked me right back in. It's disturbing, but if you're able to handle it, it is a fascinating read. The voice I hear while reading it is Michael Finkel's, the voice I listened to for hours as he narrated the CD version of his book. And I'm left with a question; if it saves your life, why wouldn't someone take an organ donated by an inmate?
2. The phone rings. When the phone rings at 12:15am, you answer it. And you expect bad news. So when I hear my brother-in-law Lalo ask for his wife, my sister who is asleep upstairs, I can't help but panic. I ask if he is okay. He says, "Something happened," and I can hear him crying.
I stumble up the stairs in the dark. I haven't lived in this house really, so I don't know where to feel for the light switches. I say to him, "I'm getting Sarah - hold on," and stretch out my hand to find the way to her room.
No one else is up.
I open the door and wake her, passing the phone off by moonlight, I turn the light on as I leave. I wait in the hall and pray while she speaks Spanish softly. My heart is pounding, wondering what else could happen. It's been fifteen months that they've been living in separate countries, waiting to be reunited for longer than a week or two. In June, when she was able to visit the States for a month, Lalo's 25 year-old cousin was found dead of a heart attack when his mom went to wake him up for dinner. Another death? I wonder.
Then she comes outside. She is smiling, and still on the phone.
"He's been approved! He's coming!"
I hug her tightly, smile and return to my room. She comes down in a few minutes, still shaking. Lalo is to send his passport in within 2 months to receive his visa, and his passport needs to be good for at least one year. They are going on a holiday in early January, and his visa expires at the end of January 2011. He has until the end of April to move to Canada. Sarah's birthday is on April 28th, and their second anniversary the end of May.
Perfect timing.
1. I discover this article from Esquire (yes, I subscribe to their site). Last month, I listened to an audio version of True Story by Michael Finkel. The book outlines his "friendship" with Christian Longo, a man eventually convicted of killing his wife and three children, and tells the story of Longo's arrest & trial. It is a fascinating and complex story. My roommate Lynsey and I were so fully absorbed in listening to it while driving across Vancouver Island that we let ourselves drive right into near-blizzard conditions. (Actually a funny story, knowing we survived.) But this was too intense and disturbing for pitch-black driving on a wintry night, so we turned it off and waited until we were safely out of the mountains before finding out the jury's sentence.
Finding this article has sucked me right back in. It's disturbing, but if you're able to handle it, it is a fascinating read. The voice I hear while reading it is Michael Finkel's, the voice I listened to for hours as he narrated the CD version of his book. And I'm left with a question; if it saves your life, why wouldn't someone take an organ donated by an inmate?
2. The phone rings. When the phone rings at 12:15am, you answer it. And you expect bad news. So when I hear my brother-in-law Lalo ask for his wife, my sister who is asleep upstairs, I can't help but panic. I ask if he is okay. He says, "Something happened," and I can hear him crying.
I stumble up the stairs in the dark. I haven't lived in this house really, so I don't know where to feel for the light switches. I say to him, "I'm getting Sarah - hold on," and stretch out my hand to find the way to her room.
No one else is up.
I open the door and wake her, passing the phone off by moonlight, I turn the light on as I leave. I wait in the hall and pray while she speaks Spanish softly. My heart is pounding, wondering what else could happen. It's been fifteen months that they've been living in separate countries, waiting to be reunited for longer than a week or two. In June, when she was able to visit the States for a month, Lalo's 25 year-old cousin was found dead of a heart attack when his mom went to wake him up for dinner. Another death? I wonder.
Then she comes outside. She is smiling, and still on the phone.
"He's been approved! He's coming!"
I hug her tightly, smile and return to my room. She comes down in a few minutes, still shaking. Lalo is to send his passport in within 2 months to receive his visa, and his passport needs to be good for at least one year. They are going on a holiday in early January, and his visa expires at the end of January 2011. He has until the end of April to move to Canada. Sarah's birthday is on April 28th, and their second anniversary the end of May.
Perfect timing.
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