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My name is Eliot-
In 1999 my best friend Turner died in an accident. I held him in my arms and watched him take his last breath. Both the circumstances which led to Turner's death and my mis-handling of the situation afterwords have burdoned me with a sense of responsibility and an overwellming feeling of guilt and sorrow regardless of how many times I've been told it was not my fault. Turner was a musician- a crack guitarist, a gifted songwriter and a powerful poet. He loved to drink good beer, listen to good music, drive his beloved Dodge Charger, skateboard, science fiction and generally having a good time. Throughout it all I was there- I was with him on his 21st birthday and he was with me on mine. I went to countless shows with him including many of his own. I helped him pick out his first bike and I picked out and loaned him the money for his Charger. We hoisted many a beer and despite my many failings he was always there for me when it came down too it, He was 33 at the time of his death and just about to return to college. Since he was a boy he was fascinated by and longed to become an astronomer. I put this account in his name and if by some miracle this account turns out to be the one that discovers an intelligent signal I want his name to be the one the world remembers. A tiny testement to a man who fell far, far before his time.
I miss you brother... |
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