George Rode By

A number of years ago here in town I knew a man named George Silverstein. 

He was a tall, thin, mellow, intellectual type fellow with long dark hair, which he tied back, who rode his bicycle all over town, as many here do.

George was a quiet person, a bit shy, and slow to make eye contact. For the several years I knew him we never got past the casual 'Hello' when my two small children and I  would see him on the street, or shopping at the Food Co-op. He would glance up briefly and smile slightly.

George was a regular in town, known by all, but not well by many.

Even so, he was respected by the tight-knit community.

One day an alert was issued throughout town that George was missing, prompting everyone to keep eyes open for him.

His friend and confidant Rusty North, a one handed woman who was an artist organized a search for George. 

Apparently he had left without notice and left his medication behind. The story was George was depressed from a breakup with a girlfriend.

Rusty was very concerned.

Hours passed and no one saw George anywhere.

During this time, my son and daughter and I were walking home from our outing, crossing 12th Street, when I happened to notice George on his bike making a left hand turn in our direction, headed toward the water known as Puget Sound.

I nodded, maybe smiled at him and saw he was smiling radiantly, with clear, strong eye contact, nothing I'd seen from him prior to then. He looked happy, and free, a new look for George. But, I thought nothing of it at the time, being absorbed in the business of my children's needs and woes.

When my children and I arrived home, I called Rusty North telling her I had just seen George at 12th street riding his bike, headed toward the water.

Rusty scoffed at me, and told me I couldn't have see George riding his bike, as his bike had been found two hours earlier.

I, confused, acquiesced and let it go. After all she was his close friend, and I was outside that loop. What could I know?...

Ten years later, two young boys, playing in the woods on Umatilla Street, happened to find a skeleton with a rope noose around it's neck. The rest of the rope was till attached to a tree limb above them.

A forensic study determined it was George.

I saw George ride by after he went to the woods, after his bicycle was found. 

He looked happier than I had known he could look. He looked beautiful.

I did not speak of this to anyone else until now. I am grateful that I got to see him one last time.