"Untitled": Need better labels

Dear J:

Are you alive? Did you get my text?

I’m sure there’s an emerging protocol for these “disaster texts,” but I’m not yet fluent in it. I waited a few weeks after the worst of the fires to text again. I had reached out about 3 days in, when it looked like your neighborhood was done for, but I didn’t hear back.

Of course, it’s the nonresponse that makes texts like these so terrifying. Your lack of response might mean you’re still furious with me. Or you didn’t get the text. Or you’re dead. I guess there are some other options, but those are the ones that come to mind.

Speaking of options, did you see the piece in last week’s New Yorker about the married couple that has visited every gallery in the Met, looked at every piece of art, and read every label? Dan and Becky Okrent are their names. Reminded me of one of our trips to a museum when we had the idea that every professional label should be accompanied by blank index cards and sharpies, so we the lookers could write our own descriptions.

I’m not 100% sure (my memory is garbage – did you know I’ve been sick for the last three years?), but I think the picture above of Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work, “Untitled” (Portrait of Ross in L.A.) is what inspired us. If you read the Wikipedia article about the piece, you’ll find there was a great label controversy involving FG-T. It's interesting that the FG-T label controversy was about AIDS. I'm in several medical studies - which take place in Ward 5B of the SF General Hospital,* the same ward where AIDS care and research started here in the 1980s. From one pandemic to the next.

It seems crazy to keep writing this letter. Especially if you're dead. What a horrible feeling to know you’re still angry, that you may have died angry at me. But you might be alive. And need something (in addition to an apology). The community aid setups in Altadena and elsewhere looked impressive. Do you have a place to stay? Clothes? Money? Food? Are you being cared for by friends or family? No doubt the rebuilding process will unfold as a massive story about nonprofits and philanthropy and government - with the protocol for "text etiquette" part of the digital civil society story to be written.

I can't remember if it’s been six or seven years since you drove off in what seemed like a panic.  I’m just now wondering if you’ve been waiting for me to reach out. I hope not. I’ve been silent, hoping you’d let me know when you wanted to talk. Friendships can be so complicated. Especially those that really matter. A long time ago I had a similar experience to what happened between us, but I was in your shoes. I’ve never reached out to her, either. I’ve spent forty years (reunion year!) avoiding places she might be.

Two texts, neither got a response. I’m sure you’re still mad. I just wish I knew if you were still alive.

I hope you and your family (how are mom and dad?) are all ok. I hope you’re alive. I miss you.

XX

*I know the full name of SFGH has a Z in front, for a certain billionaire donation. Something about putting a donor's name on the city's only public hospital has never sat right with me. I don't use the Z.

PS: What is this? Is it a real note? Is it a joke? Commentary on how global warming is changing norms – such as what we text to each other? A draft piece of fiction posted here to encourage blog readers to consider how community, friendship, giving and receiving are part of living in the Anthropocene. Maybe it's a legitimate offer of help to a missing friend? Or is Lucy just playing with us?