Very Recent History: The Lonesome Death Of James Zappalorti

It was twenty years ago today that James Patrick Zappalorti, “an eccentric, simple man who was loved by his neighbors,” was killed in the tiny hut he had built by the water on Staten Island by two locals who had constantly taunted him because they thought he was gay. Zappalorti, a disabled veteran who served in Vietnam and was discharged after suffering a mental breakdown, “spent much of his days by himself, his father said. His mother, bedridden for years with heart disease, was closest to him. He cooked and washed for her and vacuumed the house.” There are obviously plenty of stories like this one, but for whatever reason it has stuck with me since the day I read it twenty years ago and it still breaks my heart every time. Each detail is agonizing, and I still cannot read the final words of the Times’ coverage-a quote from Zappalorti’s father, whose refusal to accept that his son might be gay is equally tragic-without tearing up: ‘’He was my baby,’’ he said. ‘’When he was a little drunk, he’d hug me and say, ‘I love you father.’’’