photo credit: Jerry Hoffman |
As
readers of my past blogs know, I sometimes reminisce about past experiences,
acquaintances, friends, and associates much to the chagrin of my better half.
Sharon would say I reveal far too much personal information about myself (even
though at this stage in the game, I don’t really care anymore). Despite the
criticism, I find myself fascinated with the age old question of ‘what -ever
happened to…’
While
some of my friends won’t admit it, I do have a number who have acquiesced to
‘Facebook stalking’ and/or perusing ‘Classmates.com’ in hopes of finding old
school chums, friends, associates, love interests and other assorted contacts
made over the years.
My
philosophy is that you leave something of yourself with everyone you come into
contact with. Granted, you are a different person now than you were back then
but if you have ‘history’ with someone even for a brief period of time, the
connection is still there.
The
categories where old acquaintances can be found are too numerous to list here. It
really comes down to meaningful events in your life even if for only short
periods of time. It’s different for everyone and could almost be seen as a
memoir of one’s past life.
photo credit: Jerry Hoffman |
I
didn’t reconnect with any of my Cretin High School classmates until well after
our 50th Class reunion. Back in school, I had a small cadre of friends; all of
them were on the college track in school. Then there was me; preordained to go
into the trades or the service. Despite my councilors advice, I chose another
track for myself. A few of us reconnected after the reunion and continue to
this day.
The
Army had a profound effect on me although I didn’t realize it at the time. My
two year enlistment was ripe with hundreds of story lines, personal antidotes
and character studies. Events happened and were forgotten only to resurface
years later when nudged forward by a song, comment or photograph. It was a colorful
kaleidoscope of military images buried deep in my memory bank. There were Drill
sergeants right out of hell, bunk mates who were anti-social, lost young men,
gung-ho John Wayne types, rumblings of a far-off war, and youthful lusting for
the opposite sex.
And
the list could go on and on. It was only a moment in time but there were enough
instances of brain-burn images I still can’t shake. Over time, some of those
images have become characters in my plays and novels.
Living
in Europe on two separate occasions also supplied me with lasting memories of
colorful characters, sad creatures and intimate cerebral partners for late
night salons.
There
was my old roommate I called ‘animal,’ who only lived with me briefly but even
then left a memorable impression. Tiny Bailey, another lost soul from Arizona,
who escaped an alcoholic mother to seek solace in Denmark but ended up leaving
for Israel instead. The Guy from Canada who lived with a local family and was
treated like royalty and Maria, my pal at the Danish laundry.
Then
there were closer contacts that never went very far. For some that was a good
thing. For others, I wish I was still in touch.
There
was Heidi, the University student, who wanted more than just friendship. I
demurred and dodged the bullet on that one.
John and his friend from Amsterdam who were incredibly ambitious. I would
really like to know if they ‘made it’ with their dreams intact. Wendy, a pen
pal from Lincolnshire, England that I sadly lost contact with.
KTCA
television was still evolving and changing from educational television to
public television when I began volunteering there on the crew. I was the oldest
among the gang but we had one hell of a time taping television programs and
learning the trade. Management, always sequestered in the panel-boarded wing of
the building, was the enemy because they were all older. Then there was that
attractive blond receptionist who always had a smile for me.
Those
memories ended bundled up as a play entitled ‘PTV’ for which I have high hopes
in the future.
My
film trip to the Costa Rican jungle lasted almost a month. My fellow travelers and I
endured three weeks of heat and humidity and deadly tree-hugging snakes. They
were a crazy bunch of writers, photo journalists, adventurers and those two
girls who didn’t hesitate to go skinny-dipping with us.
The
Maryland Center for Public Broadcasting was less than ten years old and still
going through its Camelot period when I joined their Programming Department.
The station was a microcosm of very talented, creative types that came in every
color, aptitude and disposition. There were the elite power couples, the
talented producers and directors, some stoned-out crew members and numerous
artists and actors who haunted those hallowed halls in the early days.
Over
time, there were a number of interesting folks who rented apartment units from
me. Believe it or not, there are a number of those past tenants that I would
dearly love to hear from again. They were wonderful folks to know. Most were
young and beginning their respective careers.
Past
Girlfriends are always a topic of curiosity for most men. This kind of inquiry
could seem awkward but it doesn’t have to be. For me, each of those women were
charming, interesting, and a delight to know in their own way. They had names
like Diane, Joyce, Sheila, Marti, and Susan. There were others but their names
are less memorable and my time spent with them more easily forgotten. With
each, we had some ‘history’ and it was good.
Where
there was history, there are memories. The key here is to glance at the past
but not to linger there. I think its human nature to want to know about past
acquaintances no matter how close or vapid they might have been. They all were,
in a way, a reflection of who you were at that point in your life. A point in
time that can’t be returned, replaced or replicated.
But
can still hold some poignant memories nevertheless.
1 comment:
Memories. Some are enjoyable, others can haunt you.
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