| 19th April |
Message In A Bottle
I didn't think I was going to leave a message today. Normally the opportunity arises very naturally, and as it hadn't today, I was quite prepared just to leave this section of the site blank for the 19th. Just before sunset, however, out on the high, winding, breathtakeing stretch of old Route 66 from Kingman to Oatman, I saw a little white cross by the side of the road. This isn't an uncommon site on steep winding roads, and I thought it was the marker of a fatal car accident, but a handwritten sign on the cross said, 'Vito 1919-1996', which made me think this was, perhaps, a simple memorial, not an x marks the spot of a tragedy. I've always liked the Jewish custom of marking a visit to a grave by leaving a small stone, and having a stone from my favourite beach in Scotland in my briefcase, I decided to leave it there with a note, remarking on the beauty of location. When I leaned down to leave the note under the stone the little hairs on the back of my neck began to rise as I realised this wasn't a mere memorial, but an actual grave. Not that the simple presence of a gravesite normally has this effect on me - I am rather partial to strolling in graveyards. It was...how do I say this nicely? Helen skirts around the issue in her entry, but I've got to tell you; it was the smell. I've never smelled a corpse before, but there's absolutely no doubt in my mind as to what it was. Primitive recognition. It wasn't a strong overpowering terrible smell. It was just there. We've been looking for evidence and that's what we got. RIP, Vito.
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