Sean Carl Vigle

Yesterday I started on a Clean and Toss Crap project in my studio. The idea was to get rid of some of the mega ton of paper, pics and paintings that I truly do NOT need to hang onto.

Here’s the prob with that -- as I go through bags and boxes, I find cherished memories. Sure, I bin a bunch but I also find such a huge amount that I want/NEED to keep. More than I expect. A lot more.

There’s the thank you note that Celeste sent The Amazing Bob and I after her first big surgery (she has Nf2 also), my angel Helen’s third grade report card and certificate of outstanding achievement and a pic of TAB from the very beginning of our courtship. I also found a long letter, sent to me by an old friend.

Sean Vigle and I were both very much interested in cars, music and books. Conversations with him about those and so many other things were just a zillion kinds of engaging, inspiring and awesome.

I made a painting or two of him way back then too. One of which stands out in my head like a beacon. Sadly, I’ve not found it in my stacks yet but will keep looking. If it’s gone on walkabout, I can always do another. In fact, I believe I will anyway.

Through his moves from Boston to LA and then Brooklyn, Sean and I stayed in touch with phone calls and snail mail. Then life became smoke and we fell out of contact.

Memories of him randomly popped into my head last September. Facebook, Pinterest and Twitter were searched -- nada. Next, I engaged my fearsome google-fu and found him. Afraid to contact, figuring he'd probably not remember me, I didn't.

Silly me. Even if he had forgotten me (and, honestly now, who could? I make an impression like a rhino falling on a bone china teacup...but in a good way. Right?), I suspect it’s the rare person who doesn’t enjoy a no-strings-attached ‘hello and how the fuck are ya’ from the past.

‘Hey Donna,

Nice talking to you on the ‘pay for correspondence network.’ Makes you wonder about how many basic problems in the world could be solved if long distance phone calls were free. Then again, think of all the additional problems that could occur...

I suppose the main weird incentive to write and call this time is the abundance of Citroën material I have in my collection of books...’

This is the beginning of the letter I found yesterday. No date on it but, I imagine, it’s from the LA years. Maybe. I was/am really into Citroëns (particularly the 2CV) and Minis (the original model, not those fat fucks on the road now). He’d always send me pics from Mini races he’d been to or Citroëns he’d seen in passing

Again I fell into Wistful City and decided ‘this time I will contact Sean.’ I went upstairs, ratcheted up the google-fu and found a link much faster than I’d expected.

He’s gone -- no cause of death given.

I’m in a bit of shock and that feels funny since I’d not seen or been in contact with Sean since his Brooklyn days.

There’s a big ass hole in my heart today.