The Monorail & Me
The other night Margaret was in the car and heard a segment on All Things Considered about Seattle's Monorail project. I haven't heard it, but interviewed on it was Dick Falkenbury, now notoriously known as the cab driver who forced Seattle to build a monorail. Actually, he's the cab driver who spearheaded two ballot measures that look like will cause a monorail to be built in Seattle. When she heard this, she called and asked if that was my old friend. Yes, it was.
I haven't seen Dick in years and years. He visited once when I lived in San Francisco, probably 78 or 79, but we haven't talked since then. I've always been kind of bad about keeping in touch, have only remained close to one or two people from college and high school (happily, recently that's changed). Dick and I were pals from my frist college days in the fall of '71 for the next four years. He left school after a couple of years, I think, and moved back to Seattle, but I saw him regularly. Dick's a wild man, full of boundless energy, and has no attention span about some things. But he can be obsessed about others, as he apparently is about this monorail. I dropped him an email, and we've exchanged a couple of messages. God, we had some good times. We had so much fun, and a couple times I got so mad at him I coulda killed him. He had a weird heart: generous and open, but at the same time without some things that many of us take for granted. That's not said right, but maybe I can't say it right. He was always good for a great conversation about the strangest of topics.
Talking about someone else in an email (I'll write more about that another time), he said that he misses him terribly, and dreams about him every few months. Though I haven't seen him in ages, I've thought of him very often and yes, even dreamed about him from time to time. Now that I've heard from him, I'd just love to see him again.
In one email he had some bad news, that I won't talk about now. But it's a shame the way we (I) sometimes let people drift out of our lives when we really care about them. Me, I moved away from my home state, and didn't, after a time, really make the effort to find people, let them know where I was. Sometimes you get a chance to talk to them again, sometimes they're gone for good.
Maybe it's my youth I'm nostalgic for: I had so much fun with those guys, learned so much while I knew them. Dick said he hasn't changed a bit, and I'm sure he hasn't. A man of strong personality it's hard to imagine what a changed Dick would be like. Me, I don't know if I've changed or not. I suspect not, in many ways, but I do know that some behaviors are different.
So, Dick, I'm glad you popped up and glad you answered my email. I hope to see you soon, and best of luck with the monorail.
9:36:07 PM Permalink
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