How would you feel if you awoke one morning feeling just as great as always, came downstairs, fixed a nice breakfast, clicked on your computer, sent over a column to a newspaper, and read an answering email from the editor asking if you were dead? Well, frankly it felt kind of creepy/surreal.
That happened to me, and it was so convincing, the dead part I mean, that I pinched my arms a few times and even peeked down into my shirt. Yep, everything was still there. My pulse also seemed strong. Ye Ed told me that two people had phoned the newspaper asking if I’d “passed.” (How I do dislike that word. Sorry, but it just sounds more like a kidney stone issue.)
Anyway, this learned lady advised the callers she was sure I was probably still mortal considering I’d sent in a new column only minutes before. Bit by bit during the day this weird mystery became solved. Happily, in the process, I gained a new friend named Jamie Griffin and was back in touch with a dear old friend named Andrew Freemire. Many of us locals knew that creative and sweet man who now lives in Michigan. Here’s what happened in Jamie Griffin’s own words sent to me;
“Years ago Andrew and my mother became the best of friends. They adored each other and enjoyed decorating, dining, antiques and mostly each other’s company. During this time Andrew had a footstool cover made for her by you, LC. It was hooked with my mother’s name within a heart. And on the bottom of the stool you wrote your name and hers, and the date, February 1989. The wonderful stool resided for years in a place of honor in my mother’s home.
“Andrew and Mom stayed in touch over the years and then I also started to be in contact with him. She so loved and appreciated all Andrew had brought to her life. As Mom’s time here narrowed down, Andrew and I talked more. Then when she went on to her next adventure, Andrew and I talked even more. Sometimes a simple ‘hello’ would meander into a marathon.
“I recently found that little stool. So in one of my conversations with Andrew I asked about its history and who LC was. He filled me in on how the stool came into being and about his relationship with you. During the conversation he wondered what you were up to, so being a good friend, I went on the Internet to find you. That is when I learned of an Elsie who had died. I didn’t know you, so without background I told Andrew it seemed she was you!
“Andrew became upset, shed some tears and began mourning your death and his loss. I told him I would do more research to see if I could find out more details, and he was grateful. I decided to make the research my priority as I knew Andrew was in pain from the news.
“I discovered that you write for the Coastal Journal and I happened to have one in the house. I started looking for a number to call and found your column. I still didn’t get it. If they were going to honor you with one of your columns, why did they pick the one on “The Slinky”?? I simply didn’t get the significance. So I gave them a call to see what information they might have as I couldn’t find an obituary and was now confused because of the whole Slinky thing. I connected with the very kind CJ editor who informed me she had just received a column from you via email and it appeared you were indeed alive and well!
“I immediately started calling Andrew over and over without response. I was desperate. This poor man was grieving your sad demise, and none of it was necessary. Finally, he called back! I told him the good news and he was immediately relieved, excited, and then, ‘oh NO!!’ It seems that during the time I was researching and then was in touch, Andrew had been in mourning. He had gone for a walk, lamented his loss, came back home and gathered all objects that were connected to you LC, in any way, made an altar, then sat down and composed an email about his loss and sent it to everyone about whom he cared. The list included Senator Angus King, endowment friends and associates, and a great many more. Uh oh.
“My first response to Andrew was ‘what are you going to do?’ His response to me was, ‘No, it’s what are you going to do!’ Of course I’d do anything. After all, I was the one who’d created this whole mess by ‘assuming a lot with a little information,’ and poor information at that!
“I immediately started the email apology and sent it out. Andrew called later to inform me I had ‘only sent it to him and LC.’ (You were in the loop by now). It was at this point I could not find the email he had broadcast to everyone and neither could he at his end.
Where did it go? It wasn’t in spam, drafts, sents, or on screen; it was nowhere to be found. It had simply vanished! How could this have happened? And then—my thoughts suddenly flew to the memory of my dear mother. I could see her fine hand in this! So thanks Mom, for once again saving my ass. Your reach is still long!!”
And now I, LC, know the rest of the story. Was this scary? No. Funny? Very. But folks, there’s honestly something kind of weirdly charming about discovering one has been genuinely mourned without having to go through that tedious dying part.
LC Van Savage is a Brunswick writer.
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