9/11 - My uncle's death

Attended conference on Racism and National Consciousness, University of Toronto (Oct 25-26, 2003). Keynote speaker: Ward Churchill, well-known Aboriginal activist and academic from U.S.

Being outspoken, I posed questions to nearly all speakers. Met a woman named Beverley on first day; we left at the same time. She wanted to stay in touch, but would not give her phone number, and asked for mine, instead. She started saying things that made me suspicious. (I've encountered many people who have known things about me that they couldn't possibly have guessed.)

Three days later, on Tues Oct 28, I distributed an email about surveillance, race, social power, capitalism, and socio-environmental activism. I explained why I think hierarchies make sense - especially given current population imbalances - yet I also feel social harmony is desired by many, and certain changes are needed. Being critical is only half the battle: healing and action are also necessary.

My mentally-handicapped Uncle Joseph suddenly takes ill five days later, on Sunday, November 2. I had had an incident with a nursing home staff the year before and had long predicted my uncle would be the first target, if authorities wished to suppress my outspoken social concerns and attempts at activism. By this point, I'd already been experiencing harassment for several years; I often predict events before they happen.

During the week of November 3 - 9, I received a higher number of wrong number calls. This often happens, after I send out one of my email diatribes - or if I try to tell people about my surveillance concerns.

Got several calls from one number: turns out to be Beverley's. She leaves no message, so I assume it's yet another crank caller. (Hear my calls.)


(If link above doesn't work, use MisterPrivacy.com, then copy and paste http://oneadventure.tripod.com/one/id0.html.)

On Friday, November 7, after five days in Scarborough Grace Hospital's Emergency Ward, and after much loving attention from the nursing home staff, as if he might be on his death bed (despite his having been in hospital on previous occasions), my uncle goes home. But, by the next day, he's apparently contracted pneumonia and is back in hospital. At this point, I know my uncle will die.

On Sunday, November 9, I receive two calls, which I ignore. Just as I'm leaving to meet relatives for a family lunch, I get a third call. I answer, thinking it's my mother -- but it's Beverley. (Message below is her earlier call.) She asks if I'm all right, saying how worried she's been after trying to reach me 'all week' (the period my uncle is in hospital); she stresses this point.

We speak briefly, as I have to leave. Later that evening, my uncle dies. It is the 9th of November -- 9/11.

Beverley's Call

Questions About Beverley:

1. I've only met Beverley once; we had never spoken by phone before.

2. Why call all week just to tell me you're worried about me? (6 calls)

3. Why didn't she leave a message, if she wanted to reach me?

4. Calling twice within an hour on Sunday suggests urgency - yet, after a brief conversation, we make no plans and I never hear from her again.


Analysis of Phone Message:

1. Message is contradictory. She says she's concerned that she hasn't been able to reach me all week - yet in her first and only message, she uncannily assumes I am:

a) home;
b) not picking up my phone;
c) awake (in order to get her message);
d) willing, able, and likely to answer her follow-up call.

2. We met two weeks before at a conference. She should have no clue what habits are, or what I'm doing, yet she sounds pretty firm: 'Be there' and 'Answer your [my] phone,' as she will be 'calling back at 1 o'clock'.

3. How worried is she? She assumes I'm able to answer, but what if I was sleeping and am pissed off that she's calling back? If she were genuinely concerned, the polite thing would be to leave a message, asking me to call when I'm able.

4. It's true, I often don't answer the phone. Yet Beverley, again, correctly guesses I'll be answering her second call. Yet, I only did so because I thought it was my mother calling with last-minute changes.

5. None of this makes sense - especially coming from a total stranger. My own mother would not assume so much about me - ie, my whereabouts (am I even home?), am I likely to retrieve my voice messages right away, my ability to answer a follow-up call (maybe I'm asleep, or the ringer's off, or both).

[Edit: The night of my uncle's funeral, I was hit on the head, while sobbing into a payphone at a subway station. A strapping young fellow fumbles with the payphone next to me (or pretends to dial). Then, holding the receiver in his hand, he hits me on the side of the head with his hard knuckles. Stunned, then angry, tears streaming down my face, I ask why he hit me, and why he hasn't bothered apologizing. Turning to his buddy, he says: 'Oh, we thought you were a guy. Didn't we?' (har-har) Obviously, his action was intentional. If I was guy, so what? I was wearing a cap, and was hunched over, half-kneeling, crying over my uncle's death and two-and-a-half years of sheer stress. I've only bawled like that a few times in my life, at most. I'd say this guy was pretty mean. Since it's my first and only experience of queer-phobic aggression, I suspect it was a deliberate assault: icing on the cake after my uncle Joseph's death. Other, related incidents also support this conclusion.