That is powerful. The river, they told me back then, claimed a lot of people…some by their own choice, some not. Two years before your experience, police brought a body taken out of the river to Bergen Pines County Hospital in Paramus. That’s where I was a student in radiology….was gonna be an X-ray technician. We were tasked with x-raying the body, to look for evidence of possible “ foul play,” as they say. A body in the water, for weeks, maybe months. Horrible what the water does. It is something you don’t forget, even if you have become accustomed to touching dead people.
Sometimes, the things that stay with us can shock people who hear about them. I can walk in your shoes, Lucian. To find a person in the river…It would be one of those moments seared into memory, for sure.
Mortality…if only all of us, everywhere, could fathom the reality of it, perhaps without having first to experience that reality— a death—among us. Would we be less cavalier about some things, then? Things like guns? Things like war?
An elegiac column from the eyes of not only youth, but also responsibility for seeing the moment through and caring for the poor man’s family and their loss. There is dignity to be observed in death, and you did your part to respect what was loss. I’m sorry the officials did not follow up to give you closure.
Finding someone dead is a sobering experience. I experienced it 9 years ago in November. I was supposed to take my friend and business partner's son to court on the morning of Nov.1, 2016. He'd been struggling with addiction for a few years. I arrived at his mother's house, she was out of town on business. I found the trick or treat candy on the porch and the door open. I went inside and called his name; no answer. I went upstairs and found him on the floor in the bedroom, a sickening shade of blue, lifeless. I then called his father and 911. It will be 10 years this November. I'd known him since he was 5 years old. Such a waste!
Oh man, what a vivid film noir slice of life -- well-narrated.
Before the drama, you had me at Brentano's and Rolling Rock -- two touchstones from back then. That summer I went from Syracuse U. senior to Bergen Record copy editor in Hackensack. The Voice is another echo, as I was a reader and schoolboy neighbor at the original Stuyvesant High.
Better time for me than for your nameless floater with an unforgettable mug.
Great story Truscott. I’ve been enjoying your stories since ‘63 or ‘64. Can’t remember - just remember it was in The Rolling Stone. I used to pick up the Stone & the City @ the corner market in the Upper Ashbury where I owned a house at the time. I was always excited when I saw your by-line on the cover. I knew I’d enjoy at least one piece that week.
You’ve always had the eye (ear?) for the telling detail, emotional or geographic, that pushes the story.
I think that fist article was about West Point but that’s not particularly important here.
“I held his hand…,” all of a sudden the impact of the body in the river, the dark & the lights of Manhattan … over there. & the reader is looking over your shoulder while the emotional details creep up your back & then, there it is.
Thanks for another wonderful story Lucien.
Please tell Tracy I’m out of subscription $$$. My substack yearly bill … well, never mind. In Jan I’ll take stock, but for now, nathen shaken.
Thank you for this story, Lucian. I’m glad you found him. You may have been his only mourner. You did your best to put his spirit at rest. I also echo the comments looking forward to more of these personal memoir columns.
Lucian, your commenter Ms. Wadler is absolutely spot on -- if you've been "memorializing," by all means keep adding to it: you've had some remarkable experiences, the recounting of which help those who read you make some sense of, or better examine, their (our) own lives. You compare your memory of the man floating in the Hudson to the person we know from Sister Prejean's book and the subsequent movie of the same title should be called "dead man walking" --- only update, DT47 is "plodding."
Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but it sounds as though you're contrasting the dead corpse you touched to our dear demented dumb donald that we witness sleeping through events every day. A really macabre story, well told as always. Of course today for the 49th time dumb donald declared the Iran War over by an agreement to which no one else will admit agreement. For once I hope DD is right.
I vaguely recallsome of your hudson boat stories from decades ago. NYC in late 60s and early 70s was a challenge, but then it is always a challenge. We did not expect to grow old and find the nation looted morally and financially by a demented real estate salesman from NYC. We did have to deal with crooks inthe White House, boy scouts by comparison. We got past that and we shall get past this bunch.
Thank you for this beautiful essay, Lucian. You never forget the dead people you meet, for sure. I'm still holding the ones I've encountered in my heart.
That is powerful. The river, they told me back then, claimed a lot of people…some by their own choice, some not. Two years before your experience, police brought a body taken out of the river to Bergen Pines County Hospital in Paramus. That’s where I was a student in radiology….was gonna be an X-ray technician. We were tasked with x-raying the body, to look for evidence of possible “ foul play,” as they say. A body in the water, for weeks, maybe months. Horrible what the water does. It is something you don’t forget, even if you have become accustomed to touching dead people.
Sometimes, the things that stay with us can shock people who hear about them. I can walk in your shoes, Lucian. To find a person in the river…It would be one of those moments seared into memory, for sure.
Mortality…if only all of us, everywhere, could fathom the reality of it, perhaps without having first to experience that reality— a death—among us. Would we be less cavalier about some things, then? Things like guns? Things like war?
Mmmmm.
Thank you for sharing this very personal story, Lucian
An elegiac column from the eyes of not only youth, but also responsibility for seeing the moment through and caring for the poor man’s family and their loss. There is dignity to be observed in death, and you did your part to respect what was loss. I’m sorry the officials did not follow up to give you closure.
Finding someone dead is a sobering experience. I experienced it 9 years ago in November. I was supposed to take my friend and business partner's son to court on the morning of Nov.1, 2016. He'd been struggling with addiction for a few years. I arrived at his mother's house, she was out of town on business. I found the trick or treat candy on the porch and the door open. I went inside and called his name; no answer. I went upstairs and found him on the floor in the bedroom, a sickening shade of blue, lifeless. I then called his father and 911. It will be 10 years this November. I'd known him since he was 5 years old. Such a waste!
I’m so sorry you had to find him that way. It definitely changes you when you’ve known them since they were small and innocent.😩
I’m so sorry. My heartfelt sympathy to you and your friends. 🫶🏼
That is a tragic situation that no one wants to experience. My condolences to you.
Oh man, what a vivid film noir slice of life -- well-narrated.
Before the drama, you had me at Brentano's and Rolling Rock -- two touchstones from back then. That summer I went from Syracuse U. senior to Bergen Record copy editor in Hackensack. The Voice is another echo, as I was a reader and schoolboy neighbor at the original Stuyvesant High.
Better time for me than for your nameless floater with an unforgettable mug.
Great story Truscott. I’ve been enjoying your stories since ‘63 or ‘64. Can’t remember - just remember it was in The Rolling Stone. I used to pick up the Stone & the City @ the corner market in the Upper Ashbury where I owned a house at the time. I was always excited when I saw your by-line on the cover. I knew I’d enjoy at least one piece that week.
You’ve always had the eye (ear?) for the telling detail, emotional or geographic, that pushes the story.
I think that fist article was about West Point but that’s not particularly important here.
“I held his hand…,” all of a sudden the impact of the body in the river, the dark & the lights of Manhattan … over there. & the reader is looking over your shoulder while the emotional details creep up your back & then, there it is.
Thanks for another wonderful story Lucien.
Please tell Tracy I’m out of subscription $$$. My substack yearly bill … well, never mind. In Jan I’ll take stock, but for now, nathen shaken.
What a powerful piece, Loosh. You put me there. I wish you'd go back to that memoir, "Brat".
Thank you for this story, Lucian. I’m glad you found him. You may have been his only mourner. You did your best to put his spirit at rest. I also echo the comments looking forward to more of these personal memoir columns.
Lucian, your commenter Ms. Wadler is absolutely spot on -- if you've been "memorializing," by all means keep adding to it: you've had some remarkable experiences, the recounting of which help those who read you make some sense of, or better examine, their (our) own lives. You compare your memory of the man floating in the Hudson to the person we know from Sister Prejean's book and the subsequent movie of the same title should be called "dead man walking" --- only update, DT47 is "plodding."
Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but it sounds as though you're contrasting the dead corpse you touched to our dear demented dumb donald that we witness sleeping through events every day. A really macabre story, well told as always. Of course today for the 49th time dumb donald declared the Iran War over by an agreement to which no one else will admit agreement. For once I hope DD is right.
I vaguely recallsome of your hudson boat stories from decades ago. NYC in late 60s and early 70s was a challenge, but then it is always a challenge. We did not expect to grow old and find the nation looted morally and financially by a demented real estate salesman from NYC. We did have to deal with crooks inthe White House, boy scouts by comparison. We got past that and we shall get past this bunch.
A gorgeous piece! No matter what the topic. Lucian knows how to tell a story. So vivid, clear and honest. Thank you!
Thank you for this beautiful essay, Lucian. You never forget the dead people you meet, for sure. I'm still holding the ones I've encountered in my heart.
My thanks, too, for sharing this very moving article. You certainly know how to paint verbal pictures that resonate! My go-to read every day. Thanks.
Some findings are harder that others, had foster kid returned home, he was a runner. Hit skipped on the freeway, one of those memories that lingers
Take care
Is anything as it seems?