I stumbled upon this little scene as I was heading to my friend’s gallery in The Bywater. Considering the memorial stretched across the street, I thought it was a pretty good idea to document it. Nobody paid any attention to me except for one guy driving by. He asked me what I was doing. I replied, “Taking pictures.” Yeah. I know. I can be so helpful sometimes.
I don’t know all the circumstances. But, after looking at the “murder map” the local newspaper publishes, I have a pretty good idea of how this young man met his end. I also know from reading the inscriptions on the wall that he was a husband and a dad.
I suppose, for me, this is a fitting memorial to all the people who have been killed in this city — 77 this year — and, 1,000 exactly since I returned from my exile in the high desert. All is not lost. According to something I read, the fine trauma surgeons in this city managed to save another 2,000 plus who were shot or stabbed. Saving one out of three… if they were playing baseball, they be hitting .300. That would probably make them all-stars.