San Anselmo 2
My father asked me why I loved Naomi but he didn't wait for an answer.
He wouldn't. Because he flew intelligence missions, he's lived
with secrets all his life. His whole life was a secret, just like
my Uncle Paul from Bremen. He started as a chassis engineer for a
private team that raced the old Porsche RSK's. And then he helped
prepare the Jean Beyer GT-40's for Le Mans. His life too was filled
with secrets, different kinds of secrets, perhaps, but secrets nonetheless.
So I've been allowed to have secrets, encouraged to have secrets.
Naomi is my secret, classified data, impenetrable just as my face is a
mask, my spirit always in disguise -- like a warrior, like my father, or
my Uncle Paul -- still courteous, still polite, though meticulously black
and inscrutable. So I guess I'm doing the hospice for Naomi too.
Maybe this shows the depth of our love. Yeah, what am I saying?
This is for her. For her. For both of them.
