One Thousand Seven Hundred (and one) Slides, Oh My!

The last of the Tug slides

Saturday, January 23, 2021

Today, I mailed a handwritten letter to Mr. Claiborne.

What’s more, I scanned what I believe are the last of the Tugboat slides. I scanned them to the sounds of Cyndi Lauper, who always reminds me of Lenny. I replayed my favorite song from She’s So Unusual, “All Through The Night” several times when I was done. I sang along each time, trying to hold the “end” that she sings and the “Oohoo ohooo ohooo” after.

As much as I want to be thorough, I have decided not to look through Lenny’s metal suitcase of seemingly scattered slides. Something tells me those images are not meant for me to see. I will encourage my parents to gather things as neatly as they can and to seal the case. Ultimately, it’s their decision but I think I have what I need in terms of Lenny’s art. This has been difficult enough. I need some distance but I am perhaps kidding myself. As time goes on, I am going to have to get in touch with people directly and talk to them about Lenny. I have been tip-toeing around that somewhat. If my letter to Claiborne ends up unanswered and I hit a dead-end with that, I will have to ask around. I am determined to include Jan Stacy’s writing in the book.

President Biden recently said that one has to remember in order to heal. For a long time, I have not spent any length of time remembering Lenny. People might reassure me that it’s fine, that I needed to move on, as did others who loved Lenny. I’m not sure. I recall going to the waterfront on Roosevelt Island, Manhattan side, shortly after Lenny died. I sat there and wrote a poem (which I have since lost) about/to Lenny. I don’t know if I ever read it to anyone. It was what I could do. The feelings were just too much. The strongest emotion was anger. At him but more toward myself.

And now I just wish I had that poem. And that damned Polaroid.