Monthly Archives: July 2011

We Went To The Movies

M. Matthews Posting

We went to a movie. One of those super hero films.  At first, it was so natural.  The day started with Sunday brunch.  Then we went to an afternoon movie.  I almost felt like I was having a day with my adult son.

At first, Oliver and I were inseparable.  Then, he needed space.  There was a lot for him to come to terms with.  I tried to give him that space.  Lucky for us, we have Moses’ house.  Oliver has spent more time there than at my
home lately.  He is a man, not a child, so I try not to take it personally.

I thought a hero movie would be something he would like.  We sat through about half before Oliver asked if we could leave.  I was okay that.  It wasn’t my cup of tea either.  We went for coffee.  When I asked why he didn’t like the movie, he said it wasn’t that he disliked it.  It was just fantasy, a made up fiction.  He had too much fantasy in his real life and didn’t need to see someone else’s on the big screen.

Oliver spends more and more time alone.  Yes, it’s only been a little over a month but, he has no friends but me.  He’s sought out no one but me.  That’s not completely true.   He and Agent Abrams have been spending time together.  Nothing romantic.  She is older, and I believe taken.  But, he seems to be drawn to her strength.

Anyway, I just needed to vent or post as it would seem.  I’m not as prolific as Moses but I do try to “soldier” on.  I want to keep his work alive.  It also gives me an outlet for what has become my life.

I have promised more of Moses’ travel notes.  I will try to get something up in the next day or so.  In all things Moses, there are many instructions on what to post and what not.  Plus, I have to transcribe his abominable handwriting.

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Journey’s Start

Moses has faxed handwritten notes.  I will attempt to transcribe here.  I apologize for typoes.  His handwriting is not the clearest.  More to follow.

M. Matthews

6/24/2011

Notes to myself:

– I am on a 7 something morning train to New York City.  The day, it’s like sunshine and humidity rolled into a cigar of transit ready to be lit.
I watch the commuters around me.  They are trying to grab the last moments of self before disembarking at NY Penn Station and jobs and demands that support a life.

I, free, float, time flying past me unable to find perch, use these moments to see my old life one last time.  I will travel now.  Move in rhythms undefined yet foisting the lesson on me.  Lucky.   Yes.  I have money and freedom for this exploration.  But, I think I would trade my freedom for their cage.  They know who they are and what they fight for every day.  I follow whim and metaphor searching for answers to questions I little fathom.

– The train pulled into New York Penn Station on time.  As memory serves, for commuting  this is unique.  I stood in the middle of the large room, a
big board announcing all the departure gates hung from the middle of the ceiling.  Standing there, no clue what to do next, I thought, “This is what it is to be feral … wild.”

I had a backpack, cash, no cell phone and no direction.  So, I watched for a moment.  People scurried about with what appeared determined direction.  But to my observation, it seemed false.  I remembered rushing to meetings, to deadlines important then but meaningless now.

In retrospect, my next step was synchronous, a path laid prior to any decision of my own.  I walked out of the bowels of the train station and into the Border’s Bookstore.  Why, I don’t know.  At that moment the concept of a directionless pathway was almost paralyzing.  Two floors of books, videos and coffee was a momentary mooring for this waterless wayfarer.

My first impulse was to seek out the science section but whim spun me towards fiction.  I browsed down the aisle reading titles and author’s names.  At “Shepard” he jumped out at me like a snake surprised in a rocky crag.  Grandfather, or his earthly avatar, Sam Shepard had a new book of stories.  I pulled it from the shelf and his picture stared up at me from the back cover.  A picture I have used on my blog with that cat who ate the mouse grin and “I know things” twinkle in the eyes.

Grandfather.

It appeared I was not on a journey or vision quest but rather a scavenger hunt set for me by the gods’ of chaos.  Flipping through the pages my next step became clear.  I bought the book and left the store.  Picked up a coffee as I walked up town.  My vision became tunneled as I moved north.  People parted way for me.  My crazed look comes in handy at times.


In From The Cold

He’s fine.  Moses called from Salt Lake City to let me know he was alright.  It had never occurred to him that disappearing after a missing child resurfaces 24 years later might peak the FBI’s curiosity.  He “turned” himself in at the Salt Lake City office of the FBI after checking his blog.  He had been “unplugged” for an entire month.  The idea that Oliver and I were dealing with the FBI was very disconcerting.

He told me, “I’m fine.  I am not in trouble.  They just want to ask some questions.”  Moses also said that he would rather know the truth rather than follow dreams and crazy theories.  If he’s a monster who somehow kidnapped Oliver and hid him away for all those years, better to know than to stumble around in the dark looking for answers.

I know he is no monster.  The timeline does not fit.  Oliver disappeared when he was eight.  That would make him 32.  The Oliver now, although I can see him only as my son, can’t be more that twenty-five or twenty-six.  Time shift?  That concept is far beyond my abilities.

Moses faxed some handwritten pages to me, notes from his travels.  I will type them up and post as soon as I can.

I wonder if they will check Moses’ DNA, too.  If so, what would they find?


It Has Been A Month

Posted by M. Matthews

It’s been a month today.  Not a word.  The FBI said he had been seen in St. Louis and then his credit card was used in New Mexico.  Did I know where he might have gone other than that stretch of desert road in Arizona?  They had already checked that out.  I was truthful.  I have no idea where Moses Haygood is.

 

 


Come In From The Rain

M. Matthews posting:

Still no word from Moses.  The FBI has assured me that he is only a “person of interest” and not a suspect.  Although, a suspect of what?  Kidnapping 22 years ago and then putting an entire fabrication of his life up on the web?  I think we all know that Moses, while intelligent, is not a criminal master mind.

I have spoken with Ray.  He saw Moses at the spot; that desert place where little boys disappear and full grown men reappear.  Ray told me Moses stayed there for a day or two and then moved on.  No word of his intentions other than to keep moving.  Moses is still looking but seems to think his answers are out there, not here.  I have no opinion on that.  I just hope he is alright.

Oliver has been spending more time at Moses’ house.  He sleeps there now.  I can’t help but feel hurt.  I know he is putting things together in his mind and sometimes the normalcy of dinner in front of the television gets in the way of that.  I’ve had him back for only a month and I already feel like an empty nester.  But, I give him space.  Maybe he can make the “time machine” work.

I hope Moses comes in if only for a moment.  I take the FBI at their word but who knows how long Moses will be a “person of interest”  if he remains hidden.


IDENTITY

M. Matthews Posting

Carrying on Moses’ work also includes this forum. We have been busy trying to “establish” Oliver’s identity. Moses did not make it easy leaving as he did. The FBI contacted us. Evidently our postings were monitored. We have been ushered through this process by Agent Jessie (short for Jessica) Abrams. She has been professional yet at the same time comforting. I suppose that is her strength in cases like this.

1) DNA Test: I kept Oliver’s baby teeth. The FBI used one as a sample to test against. Current Oliver’s DNA is similar enough for a match but with enough differing anomalies to raise questions.

2) Finger Prints: Again, similar yet questionable. I have an art project Oliver did as a child. It was a turkey made from multiple fingerprints in ink. Again … a sample for comparison.

The FBI want to question Moses. Oliver’s case was never closed and evidently neither was Moses’ appearance. The re-emergence of Oliver stirred a pot none of us was aware still boiled.   Anyway, Oliver lives with me, now. We’ve been able to get him a driver’s license and a social security card. He spends most of his time at Moses’ house. Granted, under the FBI’s supervision, but Oliver feels more “connected” there than at my apartment.

I have gone back to work and Oliver reads through the Moses’ mountain of notes. We meet up at night. We eat. We watch TV. It is normal. Sort of.

Moses has not contacted me. I have no idea where he is. I don’t know if he is the subject of some manhunt, either. Jessie is only so forth coming. I am grateful they have not kept me from posting on his site.  Anyway, this is his portal; Moses’ story continues here. I just do not know where it will lead.

P.S. I write because I don’t feel like facing the world. Video was Moses’ tool. I may return to it. I may not. For now, words will suffice as my images.


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