After Magritte

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We sold our souls for $300.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Letters I’ve Written, Never Meaning to Send

Two stories, 1 question:

#1 Story

Sandi (yes, with an i), was my first real girlfriend. We were a summer camp item. It was summer before 8th or 9th grade, I think. She was cute and fun and it was all young and wacky and insane. The camp carnival that day was one of the top 10 days of my life so far. We sent each other a few letters (yes, letters) afterwards, but that faded away in a few months.

Fast forward about 8 years. I just graduated college and have granite in my muscles and brains. I am moving out to San Francisco to start real life in a week and I am back at home in NJ, packing up my stuff. Lots of bizarre emotions swirling around. I am starting a new life. Leaving many people behind. I am leaving my childhood home of 16 years. This is different from going of to college; it is for reals – there is no expiration date. While packing up, I come across my old notebook from camp and Sandi’s number. I am a serious pack rat. She lives 40 miles away. Funny, when I was 15, she lived 1,000 miles away – or so it seemed. There are some good things about getting older. It’d be fun to catch up. What the hell - I call.

Somewhat flustered “Hi”
“Hi, this is Rob, from a really long time ago – camp.”
“Holy crap, been a really long time.”
“Yeah – so how’ve ya been?”
“Good”
“Me too, Look I am moving to CA in a week, would love to try to meet up for lunch or something. Catch up.”
“That’d be fun. Well, I am late, running out the door, give me your number.”
Number given, Goodbyes

No call. I move to San Francisco. Door closed.

#2 Story

6 months ago, I get an email from a guy I went to high school with, Dan. He found me through Google and classmates.com. We were friends, but not that close. He went to school in NJ, so when I was home on some kooky off term, I went to visit him. Hadn’t communicated with him in 15 years or so. We send some emails back and forth.

So, I am going home to NJ for Grandma’s 100th birthday – I shit you not. And I email and say, hey, I’ll be in Jersey, lets grab dinner or drinks or something. So, Dan, Matt (another high school guy we knew) and I have dinner and beers. We have a total kick-ass time. Great conversation, funny stories, good perspectives on life – just a good time. Yeah, next time you are out here, lets do it again. If you ever come to San Francisco, let’s meet up.

As time goes by, you become a new person. Those who knew you then are the links back to the ghosts of who you used to be. "If dreams are like movies are memories films about ghosts?"
Old friends are magic. They can take you back to who you were 10-15 years ago. Sometimes that person is fun to hang out with for a while.

#3 Question

So, the question is, should I pull a Dan and find some old friends, send some emails, write some letters?

Why? See how people’s stories are progressing. Share mine. Connect to the ghost me and the ghost them. Reminisce on fleeting youth – maybe kicking my ass in the equally fleeting present. Something different – a personal communication – not spam. Smiles all around. Or is it just creepy and annoying? Hmmm.

Hey, maybe I could just send them here.

1 Comments:

Blogger TubaOnFire said...

There must be something in the water, I just got an email from someone else from high school.

Also, there is a sadness associated with any door that is truly closed.

10:56 AM  

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