Informant38

So there's two epiphanies. A painter, a colonial French Jew from the Virgin Islands - and a poet, a Russian Jew emigrated to New York City. I'm setting these out here not so much to disprove any accusations of anti-Semitism that get aimed my way in response to the work that follows, but to show how far that prejudice is from my experience.
George Burns, after his wife Gracie Allen had died, was a black hole of grief and loss. I remember being in a room with him and the weight of that loss. There was a change, I was there when it took place. Any cameras would have shown just the two of us there, talking. Maybe crying a little, not much.
I was hitchiking in eastern Oregon or maybe Idaho. A stranger in a convincing disguise picked me up, driving a big white Cadillac. We talked about a few things. Something that stranger said to me that carried me later through a lot of hard times was concerning a friend who'd had some bad trouble that only got worse. She said "It wouldn't have happened if I'd a been there."
It wouldn't have.
I'm still here because I heard that and understood what it meant.