The first man ever frozen

While I was preparing 
for my Science Fair project, 
busily freezing turtles, 
insects, and plants, 
you were busy dying. 

Mr. Vest and your physician began CPR, 
packed you in ice on the hospital bed.

It is something of an understatement 
to describe Nelson as a pathological liar 
and an outright fraud. You would 
certainly have perished at Chatsworth 
with the nine patients whom Nelson 
allowed to thaw out and decompose.

You, of course, do not know me at all. 

Sometime in the June of 1973 
I walked into the cavernous 
industrial bay of Galiso, Inc.
The unit containing you sat out 
on the shop floor amid the clutter 
of uncompleted dewars and test equipment, 
covered with a heavy layer 
of ubiquitous Southern California dust. 

This was our first meeting.

So much happened between 1982 and now.
On the other side of the flimsy “wood” paneled wall
(there were open studs on the side where you rested), 
we were washing out the blood of dogs 
and cooling them down to a few degrees.

I cannot describe the feeling of elation 
when I peeled back the sleeping bag and saw 
that you appeared intact and well cared for. 

Ruby was cremated a few days after 
her death. It appears that where immediate 
family is concerned, you will be making 
the journey into tomorrow alone.

Dr. Bedford, I hope we really meet someday. 
I am not sure we will have much in common, 
But we will have the joy, the sheer, 
unbounded joy of being alive in a universe 
where we can move freely, unchained 
from the bonds of gravity, earth, and time.

(From Dear Dr. Bedford, July 1991)