#7 I Remember Stu

This afternoon I went up to Beverly Hills. It's been a long while since I have ventured up there. Always alone it kinda creeped me out. That is a very common response from most people I know. Today I went with my friend Suz who was curious about this place. She has a tender heart under her warrior armor and thought we could cross over any souls we found there. Discarnate spirits are not my thing. But the sense of the land for what has happened on it most definitely is.

After the fire, the rubble was hauled away and the site bulldozed and covered. Nothing remained in that place. Or so we were told. The property remains private, so maybe some of the heebie jeebies come from knowing you aren't really supposed to be up there. While there are some places where the land remembers that one tragic evening - I could hear crying and the rattle of the doors in one location - it also remembers a thousand weddings, graduations, bar mitzvahs and other joyous events. It remembers the laughter of thousands and voices raised in song. Yes, it mourns the sad events of one night, but it celebrates the elegance of thousands of others. The land has found a way to hold the tragedy of 167 lives lost by also remembering the joy.

There was evidence of digging where we went. I was appalled that someone would do that and disturb the land in that way. (It gave me a new understanding of just how Native Americans feel about the excavation of their tribal sites - no matter the age). I imagined looters looking for valuable things. But, I was wrong. Very wrong. Seems what they were after were not trinkets to re-sell to morbid collectors, but bits of things with which to create odd memorials. Hand-lettered signs are now posted locating the various rooms, hallways and exits. Along the way are twisted metal table bases, drainage tubing, rebar, tile, fountain pieces and various other oddments that have been excavated. I will not judge whether this is right - only mention that it did not seem out of place. Mostly there is a sense that what was done, was done quite lovingly. It is not a place that should be visited lightly or with any intention other than love and empathy for those lost and those left behind to mourn.

When Beverly burned a young man working the sound board that night was killed. His name was Stuart Coakley. By day, he was a Chemistry teacher at my high school. Stuart initially made it out of the building, but returned to rescue others. That tragedy tied me to this place. It has not been an easy place to visit these last few years. But I went to honor his gentle spirit. I realized today that Stuart made his crossing instantly and that he is not here. Nor were there any others who linger - save one. I will always remember you Stu.


Yes the photo was taken at Beverly Hills. I could not bring myself to publish any of them save this one. The way the tree is twisted yet survives speaks to me about the will of Life to survive no matter the cost and the way we are all shaped by the events around us.