Obituary: Aline Martins

Graduation day was a good day, bittersweet for sure, but upbeat. During the commencement ceremony I tuned out the rambling of the administrators for a few minutes, and took a freeze frame of our class. That group of people, I was certain, would never be completely together again. You know the drill-- some go off and become doctors, some lawyers, some street bums, and go wherever they may roam. There are reunions, of course, but not everyone shows. What I really wondered though is who wouldn't make it that long, who we would lose along the way.

Which brings us to now, almost exactly seven months later. Aline Martins realized my sad prediction on Monday, the sixteenth of February, 2009. The number of surviving '08 graduates is permanently one less.

I don't believe she was in the sea of purple gowns and yellow tassels that I scanned over in June, since she graduated in San Ramon. She was part of our class in spirit, though. I was with her from Alisal to Mohr, to Harvest Park, and into the Amador years. Having never been in many classes with her, I did not really know her well, but still can't help feeling remorseful at the loss. Life is sobering. From what I can gather, she was the type that countered that effect, a pleasant person to be around. She was a beautiful girl, and a beautiful soul. It is a likely thesis that the good die young. Here's more proof.

We will continue. We will continue to work towards becoming doctors and lawyers, or whatever we are each working towards. Regardless of whether we knew her well or not, our lives have been affected, if not minutely, by her death. It will be one less name on the list of guests at the first reunion, one more photo on the formidable wall.

To her family; her parents and brothers, and those who were closer friends than I: I am sorry for your loss. We all lose those close to us eventually, and must move to accept it. It is unfortunate that Aline's passing was so soon. She will be missed, I'm sure.

A toast to Aline Martins.




I will note that in anticipation (optimistic, yet cautious) of the future, I will try to provide a note such as this for everyone I outlast.

Current Mood: Distant

Listening To: "Into the Blue" by Moby

People Can't Drive

Something occurred to me today during my grueling 5 hour drive from Sacramento to Northstar. Californians cannot drive. These people are thoroughly incapable of operating heavy machinery. They can’t do it.

Military pilots know all specifications of their equipment. They know the entire anatomy of their aircraft, exactly how it operates, and possible solutions to problems that might arise. They can control engine, avionics, communications, and navigation devices simultaneously.

Californians know that they have a car that hopefully makes other people envious, that it has two pedals and some sort of wheel for turning, and a bunch of useless additional electronics shit that they can’t operate without reading a 400-page manual that was written in a dim room by some poor soulless engineer. Given that it was composed by engineers, come to think of it, they probably wouldn’t understand it anyway, should it ever leave the dark recesses of the glove box. Speaking of which, who the hell keeps gloves in their glove box?

Point being: People can’t drive.

Here’s what I saw today (keep in mind that it was well below freezing with 4+ inches of snow on the road and low visibility):
-I saw an AWD Subaru with chains on. How they decided which axle to put them on is beyond me.
-I saw a minivan with chains on the rear tires. All minivans are FWD, so the chains were doing nothing. I avoided this vehicle.
-I saw an Escalade ESV going 60 miles per hour in heavy snow. He had street tires on with low tread. 4WD doesn’t do anything without snow tires in these conditions.
-I saw a line of 8 cars tailgating each other (within 6 feet) while traveling at 40mph. According to the laws of physics, tailgating in low-friction environments guarantees a pileup if any of the cars in the line slams on their brakes.
-I saw a number of people cut off trucks when changing lanes. If I was a truck driver, and someone cut me off, and I was going downhill, I would run them over. No jack-knifing for me. Of course, in the state of California, only a small percentage of people know how to drive cooperatively with big rigs on the highway.
-I saw a guy in a Chevy Tahoe with 4WD, and he was going a good speed, but he had a trailer with chains on it. And what, exactly, are those chains doing for you?
-I saw somebody in an old Mercedes going about 55mph with chains on. I will laugh in your face when they fly off and wrap the axle. American stupidity is usually able to trump German engineering.


Here’s my solution. “If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball,” right? Okay then, so take that idea and apply it to this situation. If you can fly a plane, you can drive a car. So, with that in mind, we get everybody who wants to renew their license, and take them out in the desert somewhere, and put ‘em in a Cessna or something. Then, you tell them to take off, fly for 5 minutes, and then land. If they land, they get their driver’s license. If they crash, then they have unfortunately rendered themselves incapable of driving on CA roads and must take the test again. Now, I spy a loophole—if someone has a pilot’s license, they get to take off and land from a carrier, and then they can get their license.

The gist of this plan is that most people will be scared away from applying for the license, and only competent people will apply. The skilled will pass. Why can’t driver’s-ed be like flight school? Flying aircraft is statistically much less dangerous than driving a car for precisely this reason.

I love California for a lot of reasons, but GOD some of the people here are STUPID.

Current Mood: Tired

Listening To: "All the Things That I've Done" by The Killers

I Wonder

I'm sitting here staring at the mirror. Staring at myself. It's 1:41 in the morning.

I received an e-mail from my Aunt earlier this evening, whose husband has terminal cancer. It was short and sweet, but essentially she said that he is expected to live for 15 hours from this very minute. Being who I am, I sent a long, three page e-mail in response. I didn't talk much about his condition, and in fact I avoided using the term "death" or "dying" entirely. I wrote about simple things, important things in life, and sent some pictures. I was certain to make it humorous. And it seems funny to me that I spent so much time writing this letter to a person who may never read it. He may have already passed on in his sleep on this ordinary night. The sun will still come up tomorrow.

Perhaps he will surprise the doctors and live to see another day, a week even, or a year. Who knows. But as I sit here staring at this mirrored glass, I wonder why I care about trivial things, when my Uncle could have stared into the same surface a few hours ago, instead wondering whether he would ever see that face again. His own face.

I sit and stare. And wonder.





I hope he will rise with the sun tomorrow. I hope he will read my letter. Maybe I will get to call him. Life is strange.

Current Mood: Sad

Listening To: The Refrigerator in the Common Room