Goodbye Walter, I wish I'd said more... 1939-2010

Walter and Friend, West Chester Swinging Summer 2009

Walter. You all knew Walter. Even if you swear up and down you didn't know Walter, I'm telling you, you knew Walter. Metaphysics aside, the deal is, if you hung out in downtown West Chester in the last 4 or 5 years, you knew Walter. Ok let me put it this way, you "saw" Walter, or you might have been "aware" of him. You saw him at the Coffee Shop before the Starbucks opened up, you saw him at Peace of Pizza, you saw him shuffling up and down Gay Street, the slight hunch of his back, his coke bottle glasses, his ubiquitous baseball cap, the cane he would use to steady himself, and his never ending smile.

And what I mean when I say "You knew Walter" even if you're reading this blog post from your corner of the world, you knew "A" Walter. A kindly old gentlemen who no matter what, managed a polite and enthusiastic one word greeting of "Hello".

I knew a Walter when I was a kid, an elderly man that we called Colonel Sanders who would come over to watch us younger kids play football on our front lawn in Titusville, and always at a pause in the game he would start into an unsolicited Speech about America, and Patriotism, and how great it is to live in these United States. The other kids I played with were kind of ambivalent towards him, and of course the neighborhood teenagers were a lost cause, but I kind of liked and defended him. One Christmas, before becoming a hyper conscious and angst filled teenager, before it became uncool, I convinced "the gang" to go around the neighborhood and specially Colonel Sanders house to sing Christmas carols. When he cracked the door open, behind padlocks and chains, surely put there by his experiences with the egg wielding teenagers at night, and saw us singing, tears filled his eyes and he offered us candy and of course, gave us one of his speeches. Maybe there was hope for our generation after all.I am ashamed to admit though, having become an adult, or for becoming for what passes for an adult, that I became the cynical, ambivalent, irony and sarcasm spewing elitist asshole the 11 year old version of myself would never thought, and would frankly be disappointed I'd be.

Walter Wright, was the first person I knew in West Chester. Having arrived here in town after an ugly, ugly breakup with a live in Girlfriend, the newly single me was a guy hoping to integrate myself into my newly adopted community. A pretty tall order to fill, what with my aversion to actually striking up conversations with people whom I convinced are not like me hence not worthy of my efforts to get to know them, or the seemingly clique-ish, clan like coteries that seem to exist in most specifically the Northeast USA. It seemed to me, (or maybe I convinced myself) that people around here just weren't into meeting new people, or allowing new people into their circles, because let's face it, people here are born here, they go to parochial school together, they vacation at the shore together, the ski in the Poconos together, they die here, they don't really have any room for a "new" guy.

Yet there was always Walter.Walter lived in my building, the illustrious Greentree Building on the corner of Gay and High Street in beautiful downtown West Chester. When I was going to work, there he was in the lobby, making his slow, deliberate journey to the coffee shop. I'm sure I'd be on 202 on the way to work before he made it across the street, but he always made it, and he always managed to stay there and hold court all day long. If I was going the Laundry room, there he was in the elevator, on his way to the Basement Recreation Room to watch TV on the Big Screen. And if I was in town picking up my dry cleaning, getting a Latte, buying a slice of Pizza, there was Walter, with baristas fussing all over him, people of all walks of life stopping to say hello to him, lawyers, construction workers, the *ahem* temporarily un-homed, everyone knew and loved Walter.

Don't get me wrong, I liked Walter too. I always said hello to him, I always held doors and elevator gates for him, I was quick to return his smile. If I saw him on the street I'd ask him how he was doing, and what was going on in our building. He was definitely wired in to what was happening in town.

But a part of me, god I hate to admit it, rolled my eyes when I saw him. A part of me cringed at the thought of having to start a conversation with him. "Geeze, what if he invites me to some kind of Bible Study group or something, that would suck." I'd think to myself. Or, "Crap, 2 years in West Chester, and do I know any girls? Do I know any cool people I could hang out with to have a beer? No. The only person I know by name in this burg is a 4'10 inch 90 year old man, could my life suck any worse?"

Last Summer, I noticed Walter shuffling along a heck of a lot slower than his usual pace. I really did give that guy credit, for the determination it took to be on his own and make sure he made his rounds around town. Alas though, about a month or so later I learned that he was taken somewhere to Pocopson where he could get the full time attention of people that my god, the man had earned by now. There were actually moments where I thought to myself, "I'll have to head out there and visit him, I'm sure he'd enjoy that." Then I thought to myself, "Yea right Andy, who are you kidding, you don't even call your parents on their birthdays....I'm such a Jerk"

Well, as you may know by now, I'm on the Borough Planning Commission, I'm on the REGIONAL planning commission, I'm a liaison to the Historic Preservation Steering committee, and between Guerrilla Drive Ins and Story Slams and having Lana up with me full time, I've got a pretty nice life now. I'm even enjoying meeting the people from the Chiropractic office in town when I wrenched my back a few weeks ago. So with my busy life, I came home to a photocopied article taped to one of the doors at the entrance of the Greentree Building.

Walter C. Wright of West Chester

Walter Caldicott Wright, 70, died Sunday Feb. 21, 2010.

Mr. Wright was known as the unofficial Mayor of

West Chester and was a longtime resident of the

Greentree Apartments.

Continued....

My heart sank. Then I knew I had no right to feel bad. Did I ever reach out to him? Did I give him a chance, to get to know him? Shit no.

I went to the Cornstone Christian Fellowship where he liked to hang out, no doubt he enjoyed the homecooked meals and the fellowship to pay my respects, but I had already missed the Memorial Service and managed only to observe a gymnasium full of Walter's friends sitting down to eat some great looking fried chicken dinners. Me? I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to say hello to anybody, I couldn't enjoy a free meal on his behalf, I just took a few pictures, thought about Walter, and got back on my Scooter and went home.

Don't be like me, don't let the Walter's that you know pass into obscurity, be fearless where I was cowardly, get to know people, life is too f'ng short. (God I hate cliches, but if there is something else more apropos to say, I don't know it.)