He Had a Name...
I have taken a bit of a break lately from writing in my blog. Not really any major reason, really: my DVR is always full, I have been tired, Zack and Lydia were gone leaving me with basically no audience. And I didn't know how to write this. This is not the last post I will write about death...
His name was Timothy Walters. I didn't really know him, not really. He worked at my company, in my department for the last month, maybe month and a half. My department has about 20-30 people, but because of the nature of my position, I usually have contact with everybody. As a mortgage company, it is of the greatest importance that we have people that are well versed in compliance, and he was the first ever compliance officer exclusively for our department. About two weeks ago, a situation came up that I felt would be a good opportunity to see what he felt about a situation. It was a bit of a dispute between a few different departments, so I figured he would be a good mediator. He seemed nice, and we exchanged a few emails on the subject, which I flagged for followup, as he was handling it. In his first reply, he said that he would like me to go to his office and speak with him about the situation. Our mutual boss must have told him that that would be impossible given that he was in New York and I was in California, so he sent me another email saying that he would handle the situation himself.
On Monday morning a week ago, Carolyn drove me to work, because she had to take her car into the shop. I was at work about twenty minutes earlier than normal, so after I had booted up my computer and gone to get my first cup of coffee, I found out that I had a meeting scheduled. This was an optional meeting, and I had already said that I probably would not make it, but given how early I was, I was able to get into the meeting just fine. While people were still logging into the meeting, someone said, "As you all have probably heard by now, Tim Walters passed away this weekend. He was killed in an accident going home from work on Friday night." Someone asked where he sat, which was two doors down from someone else. And that was the last of it. The meeting was useless, so I left early for another meeting that I had committed to before I had committed to my first meeting. The second meeting was pointless too. I thought about Tim Walters, and I searched for details online. I looked at all of the NY papers, but there weren't many local stories, and even fewer deaths. I knew nothing about Tim Walters, so I didn't know his age. I read stories about a grandmother and grandson killed by a hit and run; a married couple in their late 70's who died in a car crash; a woman held hostage and raped for 12 hours on Halloween; a 39 year old man who intervened in a bar fight and was killed; mistaken identity and hit and runs; no Tim Walters. (I later found out that he did not die in New York, which is why he was not in their papers.)
I told each of my colleagues about his death, and each of them had the same two questions: Who is that and how did he die? Some asked about his family, but I knew nothing about him. I found out from one person that she had met him while in New York, and that he was in his 40's. Every conversation ended the same: We talked for a little while, and then there was a pause, and then a completely new subject that came up. And that is what got me... When I told people that he was in our department they were always surprised. The first dirty secret is that we want to know how something that happened could have affected us personally, to what degree were we affected. The second dirty secret is that we want the details, even though they are immaterial; it didn't matter what type of accident it was, because he was still dead. But it does matter. Maybe our brains need to see it, to recreate it themselves. And the third dirty secret is that we move on. We have to move on, so we devote just enough time to consider it, then we move on. People talked to me about my weekend, and their weekend, and football. For one person, I switched the topic back, just to bring it up that we started talking about football seamlessly right after we had talked about a man's life. He had a name, he had a family. I read dozens of headlines when I was looking for him, and that is what it all boils down to: We are interested to one degree or another in the various headlines, but they aren't all as important to us. For some of us, the latest political news is important, but I think that most people would rather hear about who is fucking who in their neighborhood, and when the next PTA function or swingers meeting is. And that is fine, and that is good, and that is the way it should be, but it really makes you think about your place in the world, should something happen...
I sent my condolences to my boss immediately. She sent a message to her New York employees and my direct supervisor, who forwarded the message to those of us that she immediately supervises. I openly wondered whether the big wigs would send out a company-wide email; he had only been there a short time, but there is no way of knowing immediately what projects he had been working on. Had I not heard in the meeting, I would certainly have attempted to follow up with him on the issue we were working on. When I wrote my condolences, I could not bring myself to say that he seemed competant, or professional, or nice; I had not known him long enough. I could assume he wasn't a douche, but it would cheapen the words to me if I said things that I didn't mean or couldn't verify. It doesn't take much restraint for anyone but a complete jackass to not write heinous things to me in our first email exchange. In the evening, HR told me that he had been killed by a hit and run driver on Saturday night. The next day, I found out that they were wrong, that he had been killed on his way home from work. The bigs did send out an email to everyone, which I thought was nice. Apparantly our president had recommended him for the job, so I wondered whether this had anything to do with him getting the mass email treatment. In any case, I thought it was a nice touch to have a few nice words said by some people who knew him a little bit. He had a wife and two teenage kids. The bigs established a scholarship fund for the kids. He lived in New Jersey and took the train and was killed while crossing the street to a park and ride. I didn't know him, not really, but I know him a little better now. I talked to my boss about the issue I had been corresponding with him about; I had already gotten the situation to a stable spot while awaiting final verdict, so we decided to just let the situation die out.
So, I had wanted to write about Timothy, but I hadn't really had the guts to put it in words. I am not really sad, but it makes you think. For me he was a somebody; for some people, he was everything. I hadn't and I still haven't yet read about Zack and Lydia's trip, so I logged on. And then I read the headline on MSN.com, under the sports section: WWE wrestling star found dead in hotel room. At first I was touched that they would put it under the sports section, as people rarely consider wrestling to be part of sports, but I was scared to click the link, because if it was on the front page, I knew I would know who it was.
His name was Eddie Guerrero. As far as the WWE heirarchy goes, Eddie was definitely in the top twenty active names. I know already what most people think of wrestling, I have even thought it myself. But just because the punches are pulled and the outcomes are scripted doesn't mean that it is not real. There is real pain, real injury, and so much else that is real in every match. I am not trying to win any converts, but to see how a wrestler ends up at the end of their career, and to see how their lives are lived... A wrestler has a shorter lifespan than any other professional sport in America, and they are more likely to suffer a serious injury. There is substance abuse of all sorts. Eddie himself was a recovering addict, four years sober. He had wrestled for twenty years, and was only the second Hispanic WWE champion. He was found dying in his hotel room by his nephew, Chavo Guerrero, also a star in the WWE.
Eddie was having a major resurgence in the WWE. After a brief stint as a heel, where he was dark and brooding, he had returned as a face again, as a tag team partner to the WWE champion Batista. They had great chemistry together, and I know that Eddie was a big part of the storylines for a good time into the future.
Eddie was a wrestler, a great one. We don't know yet how he died. He was fun and charismatic, and a crowd favorite driving to the ring in a lowrider. Latino Heat (his nickname) dying in the prime of his career is devasting.
If you want to learn more about wrestlers, please visit the following links, especially the meticulously researched Gary Will site. You will probably see some names you know. You can also watch RAW or Smackdown this week for tributes. My thoughts are with you tonight, Eddie.
DeansPlanet Dead Wrestler Tribute
Gary Will's Deceased Pro Wrestlers
Their names were Timothy Walters and Eduardo Guerrero.
His name was Timothy Walters. I didn't really know him, not really. He worked at my company, in my department for the last month, maybe month and a half. My department has about 20-30 people, but because of the nature of my position, I usually have contact with everybody. As a mortgage company, it is of the greatest importance that we have people that are well versed in compliance, and he was the first ever compliance officer exclusively for our department. About two weeks ago, a situation came up that I felt would be a good opportunity to see what he felt about a situation. It was a bit of a dispute between a few different departments, so I figured he would be a good mediator. He seemed nice, and we exchanged a few emails on the subject, which I flagged for followup, as he was handling it. In his first reply, he said that he would like me to go to his office and speak with him about the situation. Our mutual boss must have told him that that would be impossible given that he was in New York and I was in California, so he sent me another email saying that he would handle the situation himself.
On Monday morning a week ago, Carolyn drove me to work, because she had to take her car into the shop. I was at work about twenty minutes earlier than normal, so after I had booted up my computer and gone to get my first cup of coffee, I found out that I had a meeting scheduled. This was an optional meeting, and I had already said that I probably would not make it, but given how early I was, I was able to get into the meeting just fine. While people were still logging into the meeting, someone said, "As you all have probably heard by now, Tim Walters passed away this weekend. He was killed in an accident going home from work on Friday night." Someone asked where he sat, which was two doors down from someone else. And that was the last of it. The meeting was useless, so I left early for another meeting that I had committed to before I had committed to my first meeting. The second meeting was pointless too. I thought about Tim Walters, and I searched for details online. I looked at all of the NY papers, but there weren't many local stories, and even fewer deaths. I knew nothing about Tim Walters, so I didn't know his age. I read stories about a grandmother and grandson killed by a hit and run; a married couple in their late 70's who died in a car crash; a woman held hostage and raped for 12 hours on Halloween; a 39 year old man who intervened in a bar fight and was killed; mistaken identity and hit and runs; no Tim Walters. (I later found out that he did not die in New York, which is why he was not in their papers.)
I told each of my colleagues about his death, and each of them had the same two questions: Who is that and how did he die? Some asked about his family, but I knew nothing about him. I found out from one person that she had met him while in New York, and that he was in his 40's. Every conversation ended the same: We talked for a little while, and then there was a pause, and then a completely new subject that came up. And that is what got me... When I told people that he was in our department they were always surprised. The first dirty secret is that we want to know how something that happened could have affected us personally, to what degree were we affected. The second dirty secret is that we want the details, even though they are immaterial; it didn't matter what type of accident it was, because he was still dead. But it does matter. Maybe our brains need to see it, to recreate it themselves. And the third dirty secret is that we move on. We have to move on, so we devote just enough time to consider it, then we move on. People talked to me about my weekend, and their weekend, and football. For one person, I switched the topic back, just to bring it up that we started talking about football seamlessly right after we had talked about a man's life. He had a name, he had a family. I read dozens of headlines when I was looking for him, and that is what it all boils down to: We are interested to one degree or another in the various headlines, but they aren't all as important to us. For some of us, the latest political news is important, but I think that most people would rather hear about who is fucking who in their neighborhood, and when the next PTA function or swingers meeting is. And that is fine, and that is good, and that is the way it should be, but it really makes you think about your place in the world, should something happen...
I sent my condolences to my boss immediately. She sent a message to her New York employees and my direct supervisor, who forwarded the message to those of us that she immediately supervises. I openly wondered whether the big wigs would send out a company-wide email; he had only been there a short time, but there is no way of knowing immediately what projects he had been working on. Had I not heard in the meeting, I would certainly have attempted to follow up with him on the issue we were working on. When I wrote my condolences, I could not bring myself to say that he seemed competant, or professional, or nice; I had not known him long enough. I could assume he wasn't a douche, but it would cheapen the words to me if I said things that I didn't mean or couldn't verify. It doesn't take much restraint for anyone but a complete jackass to not write heinous things to me in our first email exchange. In the evening, HR told me that he had been killed by a hit and run driver on Saturday night. The next day, I found out that they were wrong, that he had been killed on his way home from work. The bigs did send out an email to everyone, which I thought was nice. Apparantly our president had recommended him for the job, so I wondered whether this had anything to do with him getting the mass email treatment. In any case, I thought it was a nice touch to have a few nice words said by some people who knew him a little bit. He had a wife and two teenage kids. The bigs established a scholarship fund for the kids. He lived in New Jersey and took the train and was killed while crossing the street to a park and ride. I didn't know him, not really, but I know him a little better now. I talked to my boss about the issue I had been corresponding with him about; I had already gotten the situation to a stable spot while awaiting final verdict, so we decided to just let the situation die out.
So, I had wanted to write about Timothy, but I hadn't really had the guts to put it in words. I am not really sad, but it makes you think. For me he was a somebody; for some people, he was everything. I hadn't and I still haven't yet read about Zack and Lydia's trip, so I logged on. And then I read the headline on MSN.com, under the sports section: WWE wrestling star found dead in hotel room. At first I was touched that they would put it under the sports section, as people rarely consider wrestling to be part of sports, but I was scared to click the link, because if it was on the front page, I knew I would know who it was.
His name was Eddie Guerrero. As far as the WWE heirarchy goes, Eddie was definitely in the top twenty active names. I know already what most people think of wrestling, I have even thought it myself. But just because the punches are pulled and the outcomes are scripted doesn't mean that it is not real. There is real pain, real injury, and so much else that is real in every match. I am not trying to win any converts, but to see how a wrestler ends up at the end of their career, and to see how their lives are lived... A wrestler has a shorter lifespan than any other professional sport in America, and they are more likely to suffer a serious injury. There is substance abuse of all sorts. Eddie himself was a recovering addict, four years sober. He had wrestled for twenty years, and was only the second Hispanic WWE champion. He was found dying in his hotel room by his nephew, Chavo Guerrero, also a star in the WWE.
Eddie was having a major resurgence in the WWE. After a brief stint as a heel, where he was dark and brooding, he had returned as a face again, as a tag team partner to the WWE champion Batista. They had great chemistry together, and I know that Eddie was a big part of the storylines for a good time into the future.
Eddie was a wrestler, a great one. We don't know yet how he died. He was fun and charismatic, and a crowd favorite driving to the ring in a lowrider. Latino Heat (his nickname) dying in the prime of his career is devasting.
If you want to learn more about wrestlers, please visit the following links, especially the meticulously researched Gary Will site. You will probably see some names you know. You can also watch RAW or Smackdown this week for tributes. My thoughts are with you tonight, Eddie.
DeansPlanet Dead Wrestler Tribute
Gary Will's Deceased Pro Wrestlers
Their names were Timothy Walters and Eduardo Guerrero.
posted by Xryz - kingofallcosmos at
3:02 AM
4 Comments:
You are right. He may only be an aqaintance to you or a stranger to me, but he was everything to somebody, which in itself, makes his death very sad.
Only a few other people in my office were aware of eddie guerro's death. I genuinely think that there was a sadness in the air. He was someone that we had watched on tv every week. I am sad to see him go.
By
Cei Pei, at 11/14/2005 8:59 PM
So when is that swinger's meeting?
By
Anonymous, at 11/15/2005 11:25 AM
Silly Bgow! Tame yourself.
By
Cei Pei, at 11/15/2005 4:42 PM
So, after mulling it over for two weeks, I think the most coherent thing I can say is that death is sad.
By
Zack, at 11/29/2005 10:58 AM
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