PriorBlog

Last week while I was waiting for the bus I saw Carlos Arredondo’s truck drive by. People who live in Roslindale are very familiar with this vehical, as it has become a rolling tribute to his son Alex Arredondo, who died in Iraq a few years back.

Carlos made headlines when he heard the news about his son, locking himself in the van that the military officials who brought the bad news arrived in, and setting it and himself on fire. I remembered the story well because of the father’s reaction and also because Alex was a local kid, living at one point in his life, a few blocks away from me.

The first time I saw the memorial I was blown away. Carlos had parked the truck at the intersection of Washington Street and Cummins Highway in Roslindale, pretty much the center of the town. Hitched to the back of the truck was a flag draped coffin surrounded by a number of photos of Alex, including one in his casket. The casket photo juxtaposed with the casket behind the truck, struck me as very disturbing, almost too disturbing, but the more I thought about it, the more this “disturbing” tribute became a “fitting” tribute.

I was really afraid when I was looking at the pictures and the casket that he would pop out from somewhere. It’s not so much that I didn’t want to meet him, it’s more that I didn’t really want to come in contact with his grief. At the same time, I wanted to see all I could of this strange memorial, so I stood there checking it out, looking over my shoulder as I did so.

Then I started seeing the tribute all over the place, and I more and more wanted to meet Carlos. In the meantime he’s driven the truck across the United States, and parked it in front of the White House.

I finally got to meet him a few months ago. I think I read somewhere that he’s forty-six, but he seems much younger. When I met him the thought went through my head that I am now closer in age to the parents of the troops than the troops themselves now. I have to confess that I thought he would be a little bit mentally disturbed, but that notion was quickly dispelled. He was very affable, like a friendly next-door neighbor. He was also extremely aware of the perception attached to his odd tribute. I tried to put into words what I thought of it, but was failing to find the right word, and then Carlos, looking at it as though it were something completely outside of him, as though he were just another passerby like myself thinking the exact same thing, finished the sentence for me.

“It’s very powerful.”

I know that it might be in poor form to judge a war memorial aesthetically, but I think there is something to be said for the unique way Carlos’ tribute affects people. The interest it generates, as well as the uncanny fear it elicits, give it greater sway over those who see it.

This week Carlos is protesting in Times Square and I was really pleased to see that Reuters had a picture of Alex’s boots (part of the display) as one of its top photos for the day.