The Letter

I haven't really written much of late, but I thought I'd post a rambling letter that I sent to our lovely friend Jake Slichter a few weeks ago. I won't post his response which was characteristically charming and kind. And, despite what follows, he still claims it's nice to hear from me...

Hey Jake,

Silly question, but do you happen to know Jennifer Egan? (Growing up on Long Island I had this fantasy that all writers in Brooklyn knew each other.) I just finished reading "A Visit from the Goon Squad," and saw she mentioned Semisonic and thanked you for your book. And I thought, hey, I thanked Jake in my book too (well, my Master's Thesis). I finished the book on the bus home from work yesterday, a bus that brings me from Nevada Test Site back into Las Vegas where I live now. I work for a government contractor as a technical writer out there. Commuting 4 hours a day, and working 10. I'm just glad to have a decent job. Still, it's a long way from teaching English Composition at BYU. Back then, idealist that I was, teaching your road diaries to my students as personal narrative examples, especially the one about Vegas, it seemed highly unlikely that I'd end up here.

The memories came rushing back of that time, now 10 years ago, the Semisonic bbs, and meeting the gang at the All about Chemistry gigs. And September 11th. That morning I was getting ready to go teach my class, and then everything changed. As I was thinking about this, my bus pulled into the Department of Energy complex and the Security officer was coming down the aisle, checking our badges. He bent down because he dropped one of his ammo magazines, which made me laugh for some reason.

I got in my car and drove home on I-15, passing the Las Vegas Strip where a building-sized banner advertised "The Beatles Love by Cirque du Soleil, Now in it's 5th year!" And it struck me, God how long have I been here?! How did all this time go by? Which of course is what Goon Squad is about. I thought about how no one even writes emails anymore; those are the old days now! Since everything happens in 140 character bursts and Facebook updates. Well, you know, we're all still in touch, but not reaaaally...

It makes books an even greater miracle, just the fact that anyone still has that kind of attention span. I can't manage to write anything more complex than a sporadic blog entry. Everyone has a blog. Everyone's a writer. So to make something stand out from all the noise, that's a lot of pressure. And it's doing my head in. Being a tech writer makes me a WINO (writer in name only). I keep telling myelf that it's because I don't travel much these days, not much adventure to draw from. But that's not it. I wish it was.

So now bin Laden is finally gone. I was watching the Mets v. Phillies game when the announcers broke in with the news, and it spread through the crowd, along with the chanting of USA...USA. The Mets and Phils went into extra innings, and I switched back and forth from ESPN to the President's speech. I pulled for my Mets to win it. Strike a blow for New York, I thought, then just as quickly I remembered the plane that went down in Shanksville. And the fans kept chanting...and I thought wow, something Mets fans and Phillies fans can actually agree on.

Monday, I got back to my office, filled with government workers, all abuzz with the big news, but they're making me sad, my colleagues, with their snide comments about the Pakistanis and Muslims in general; they still don't get it. One particularly ignorant woman actually said the Navy Seals should be let loose on the Mexicans trying to cross the border. She says stuff like that all the time.

I looked at the photo on my desk, me at a Mets game with my best friend's kids, a Pakistani-American family, the kindest most generous people I know. Hina, who is my best friend from high school in New York, she told me that on September 11th, she couldn't get to the kids' school to pick them up because of the chaos, and that she was frantic because there was already speculation about who was behind the attacks. I don't remember the anti-Muslim sentiment erupting so immediately. But the kids go to a Muslim school across the bridge in N.J. and it wasn't the first time they'd met with the ignorance. And it certainly won't be the last.

Back on the bus, a few tears rolling down my cheek, I wondered, would things ever change? Would people ever learn? And meanwhile, would I ever make something of myself? Is there still time? Time really is a Goon.

Still, every once in a while, I wake up excited, because I've dreamt that I finally caught a glimpse of that mysterious Maskipper, though he's always gone just before I can reach him. And by the time I'm fully awake, he's slipped completely away.

So Jake, why am I sending this random and disjointed missive your way? I guess because of all the connections that are coming up lately. And because I knew you'd get it. And because you have helped to bring about some of those great magic times. And because you're still one of the coolest guys I know. I hope this finds you well.

Cheers,

Jennifer :)