What I love about this time, perhaps more than anything, is how this great technology called the Internet has compressed time so that people we knew long, long ago and perhaps haven't seen for decades can suddenly reappear in our lives by way of an email or even an Instant Message.
This has, in fact, happened to me three times in the past few months, and each time has brought a kind of joy to my life that is difficult to convey.
Jannine
The most recent example happened just yesterday, when my oldest friend contacted me by way of classmates.com. Both of us have been listed on this website for years, but except for a quick note here and there, no real contact had been made. Now, however, the Internet has matured a great deal since we first discovered each other on it, and today we have an ability to share long emails and picture albums with each other, and the fun of reconnecting is easier than ever.
When Jannine contacted me yesterday, many wonderful memories emerged for me.
We met in 5th grade at our town's only Catholic grade school. I was the new kid; having just moved to that town over the previous summer.
5th Grade: ten years old and just prior to the angst and torment of puberty. I don't remember if I ever talked to Jannine in the 5th grade. We might not even have been in the same classroom, but I noticed her. How could I not? She was the pretty little blond girl who even at that innocent age was beginning to turn the heads of boys who weren't even sure why at that age.
It was the next year, 6th grade, when we finally got into the same classroom. Sister Jean Marie - a young, very slight and nervous nun - had been given the task of herding in the burgeoning hormones of the boys and girls of her class. Jannine sat next to me and the very first time she asked me a question about a math problem, I was smitten. Boy, was I smitten! At the same time, I was very shy; something that has plagued me all my life.
My objective: how could I get to know this wonderful creature better? My solution: I'd establish allies in my quest. I'd befriend boys who were bolder than me and perhaps get close to Jannine through them.
Well, it wasn't hard to find them. Most of the boys in the school thought Jannine was the cutest girl around. I remember two in particular though who were just as crazy about her as I was. We spent a lot of time discussing our innocent mutual longings for her. One even wrote a poem to her that began, "Jannine, Jannine, the girl of my dreams...". I doubt if he ever gave it to her though. He wasn't that bold!
Then I discovered Ed. Ed lived very close to Jannine and often walked home with her. I'm sure he liked her as much as the rest of us, but he had an advantage over us. He was already friends with her! So there was no need for long discussions with Ed about how much we both liked her. As far as I was concerned, he already had her. I mean, he knew her family, and got to go into her house and everything! Well, I just had to get to know Ed better so that I could finally have a way of meeting Jannine away from school.
And that's exactly what I did. In a short time, Ed, Jannine and I were all walking home together; even though Jannine's house was almost in the exact opposite direction from my house and we always walked back and forth to school through all kinds of weather. On the best of days, this happy detour probably added a half hour to my daily trek home. But I didn't care a bit. In fact, I simply floated home after being with her. And if I was drenched or frozen when I got home, so what?
What a treat it was for me, then, that I got to be with this sweet, young beauty almost every night as I carried her books. Sometimes, Ed couldn't walk with us and my bliss was made complete.
We did become wonderful friends. We even participated in our local Children's Theatre under the direction of Mrs. Walters where we were in plays together. But the greatest part of that experience was when we began doing puppet shows around the community. One of the little skits we did had just the two of us behind the puppet stage, delightfully close to each other and performing a fun little playlet that had two characters - I can't even remember what they were exactly - complaining to each other about this and that. This was performed to the exotic Martin Denny number, "Quiet Village". I can still hear the strains of Denny's wonderful band playing along with the bird calls and other wild sounds in the background. What great fun that time was for us.
But "just friends" is what we would ever be.
Jannine was tall, lithe and athletic. I remember playing basketball with her behind her house against her garage. Yes, she always beat me, and sadly for me, she was always attracted to the athletic types; something I most assuredly was not. Instead, I was the somewhat chubby, bespectacled boy who would soon be plagued with bad skin and a fairly prominent Mediterranean nose. Not what any girl would have called "a hunk", for sure.
I'm pretty sure that the first real heartache I experienced with Jannine - and in my life - was when she started going with the 6th grade basketball center in our school. Maybe she wasn't actually going with him, but it was apparent that she was very attracted to him.
This, then, became my relationship with Jannine; destined to be just friends. After 8th grade, I went off to a couple of private schools, but in my senior year of high school, I returned to our town's public high school, where Jannine had been attending the entire time.
It was nice to fall back into our easy friendship that had been interrupted for three years, but whereas I was once again the "new guy" at school, Jannine had become that girl! You know...the head cheerleader, Sweetheart Queen and overall school heartthrob!
Still, she had changed very little. She remained the delightful, friendly, bright and modest girl I'd always known despite her popularity. All of these had been the qualities that had touched my heart so many years earlier. She never put on any airs. She was genuine and if you were her friend, you remained her friend. Even to this day, even if years have gone by, they melt away very quickly when we contact each other or meet at the occasional high school reunion.
And while both of us have gone through our own personal crises over the years, we both seem to be in a good place these days. She has gone from being a small town Iowa girl and grown into the successful and involved wife of an increasingly-renowned CEO of a growing Chicago consulting firm. Both are civic leaders and enjoy the results of years of hard work. Jannine, herself, works hard to raise funds for HIV/AIDS families in the Windy City area.
Most satisfying and joyful to her, however, are her three - soon to be four - grandchildren her two beautiful daughters have given her. What a strange thought that the little girl I met as a 5th grader now has grandchildren not much younger than we were at that time.
Once again, time is ever-present in our human existence, and while its passing can bring sorrow and pain as well as joy and happiness, it is indeed the golden thread that brings out the beauty and majesty in the tapestry of our lives.
Gary
But Jannine's contacting me wasn't the first surprise I received this past week.
Classmates.com again provided a welcome link to my past when my best friend in high school dropped me a note. The year I met Gary was also in my senior year at the local public high school. I hadn't known Gary before then, but in a way that escapes me now, we met during one of our activities - perhaps during tryouts for the school musical, My Fair Lady. And surprise, surprise, he too was rather enamored with that same pretty young cheerleader, Jannine. So the pattern of my grade school had continued in that my friends and I were at the same level of adoration for her.
As a disclaimer, Gary might argue this last point after 33 years of marriage to the same wonderful woman and mother of their four beautiful daughters, but this is my blog and my memory, so sorry, Gary, if I'm not remembering this all quite that same as you might.
Gary was one of those guys who always seemed to have everything going for him. He was very, very bright, good-looking, self-assured, got top grades and his family was pretty well-off - certainly by my family's standards. In short, he was what most mothers would call a great catch. And he was Jewish; which for me - the boy who'd only attended Catholic schools - was as exotic as befriending a Hawaiian Kahuna.
When I think of how easily I could have fallen into a different future if I'd had a different kind of friend the year prior to the absolute freedom of college, it is sobering to consider.
Fortunately, in 1969, the more destructive trends of the so-called Youth Movement hadn't quite hit our area. When a couple of classmates were busted for pot, this was as shocking as if they'd been indicted for arson. Even alcohol didn't seem to be as prominent at the time as it is today; not that kids weren't always trying to get it, but Gary and I weren't motivated by getting wasted. Hell, we were just beginning our lives and we wanted to be as alert and lucid as possible so that we could savor all that life had to offer.
After a last summer at home which included some travel to exotic lands (Okay, it was just Wisconsin), we went our separate ways; he to Iowa State University in Ames and me to Marquette University in Milwaukee.
Yes, alas, I was back in a Catholic school!
The next summer, however, would find us both pursuing an adventure together like you only find in books. We became carnival barkers - carnies - and spent that summer travelling around the Midwest, meeting and having fun with girls in every new town; getting thrown out of other towns (not that we were involved in these incidents...well maybe once); and meeting a mob godfather to get his "blessing" and to pay him a quick thousand bucks under the table for the "privilege" of setting up our concession at a Catholic Church festival in one of the most mobbed up suburbs of Chicago, Melrose Park. If we had a problem with paying him, we learned in no uncertain terms, he would not be responsible for any consequences to our concession, the bus we hauled everything around in - or to "our physical personages".
So why would anyone play this carnival under that kind of duress?
It was all about filthy lucre, folks! We made more money in those few days than at any other time that summer. And damned if we didn't feel safe under the watchful gaze of the Holy Mother and the Unholy Godfather!
After that summer, Gary went back to Iowa State and I returned home, but switched to a less expensive school, since the scholarship I'd received for Marquette was only for one year. Instead I attended the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee.
I was commuting from a small town my parents had moved to which was about 50 miles away from UW-M when the engine of my VW Bug blew up one day on the way to school. Who knew that those amazing little cars needed oil??
I decided to just write off that year. Besides, I'd had too much fun being a carny and quickly got my job back.
But now, instead of working the Midwest, it was time for the great southern circuit. So I was flown to Shreveport, Louisiana to join my brother, who was there running a concession at the Royal American Shows. From there, I went to Florida for a few weeks, then to Texas's Rio Grande Valley, where we managed to get into far too much trouble than I can relate here. One day, I intend to tell all the stories about that crazy time in my life.
Gary, on the other hand, disappeared from my radar screen for a number of years. In fact the only times I've seen him since that carnival summer has been at a few reunions. Par for the course, I know, but I have always wished I'd lived closer to the guy as we entered our adult, married, middle-age and now nearly-enfeebled life phases.
Actually, with this most recent reconnection, he sent some pictures and as difficult as it it for me to say it, he still looks great. Of course, I would never tell him this.
Well, maybe if he says the same thing to me first!
Claudia
The person who started off these joyful little reunions a few months ago was the lovely woman who helped make me a man in high school: Claudia.
Maybe I better explain this lest others regard Claudia as other than the wonderful, sweet and innocent girl she was as a high school junior when I dated her.
As I mentioned earlier, I'd spent 11 years in Catholic School before discovering how much fun public school could be without the constant threat of bodily harm from sadistic and sexually-frustrated nuns, and priests of the same ilk. Truthfully, that last statement was not fair; at least about those dedicated sisters who gave up so much in their lives to be of service to others. The priests, on the other hand, well we know far too much about how too many of them have behaved with children. Holy men, indeed!
Fortunately, I have no complaints against any of the nuns and priests I encountered in my Catholic school years. That doesn't mean that I escaped the occasional ruler or other kinds of discipline imposed in those days. But I know for a fact that I was a hellraiser from Grade 1 and the only way I was spared more drastic disciplinary action was due to the great patience and forbearance of the good sisters and fathers I constantly provoked during my formative years.
The thing is, my freshman year in high school was spent in something called a preparatory seminary; which, of course, only had boys in attendance. My pubertal surge of hormones, however, convinced me that the celibate life would never be my true calling. So my next two years were spent in the Catholic high school located in a larger city a few miles away from my hometown.
This school was not coeducational, however. Instead, it was called coinstitutional; which simply meant that for the most part, boys stayed on one side of the building and girls on the other. The twain in which we met consisted of the cafeteria and certain classes that required the delicate mixing of the two newly-libidinous sexes.
There were dances and mixers, of course: well-chaperoned ones, but this ex-seminarian had lost all ability to even talk to girls by that point. Something surely happened to my personality at puberty and I barely spoke to a girl in two years at that school. As Gary might have uttered, "Oy ve!"
So it was indeed a wonderful feeling to get back to our public high school, where many of my grade school classmates had gone and where the boys and girls mixed freely in an atmosphere rich in the heady mix of estrogen and testosterone. Besides, it has always been much easier for me to get to know people if I have even one "in" with whom I can use his coattails to help me overcome my inherent shyness.
So this is how it went: because I knew that Jannine was going to be in the school musical, I wanted to get into it too. It was here that I met Gary, who introduced me to others and so on and so forth and by the time the year had ended, my dearth of male and female friends had ended...until the next year when I was once again the new kid who knew absolutely no one at Marquette and who subsequently spent a very lonely year; mostly in my dorm room.
Shout it again, Gary.
"Oy ve!"
But back in high school and before that sad episode of my life began, I met Claudia. Just how we met and got together I can't recall exactly, but I know that it was on a bus trip to a state music and dramatic contest that we became a couple. And it was all I could do not to shout "Hallelujah!" from every church top in town because for the first time in my life, I had a real live girlfriend!
"Woowoo!!"
And at age 17, it was none too soon.
Sadly for both of us - and more to my detriment, I suspect - this relationship was short-lived. After school ended and I graduated, I wanted to spend more time with Gary travelling and hanging with him than with Claudia. I still feel that I treated her pretty shabbily that summer. I liked her very much, but I felt that since I probably wouldn't see her again after I went to college, I didn't want to get too close. As it turned out, my family moved 200 miles away after my freshman year in college, so I never did see Claudia again.
So it was a wonderful moment when she contacted me on classmates.com last August. Just a quick note, but it was great to hear from her. As is my wont, I wrote her a long recap of the many years since we last saw each other. That day, she wrote a beautiful piece in her own blog about our reacquaintance and also wrote some of her own more personal story to me in a separate email. I hope Claudia doesn't mind, but I think that her posting is wonderful and I'd like to reprint it here:
This has been quite a morning After I finished my work and emails I happened to go on a website that allows you to peek into the lives of people you once went to school with. For me, high school, well, that's been a long time ago. Faces, really not recognizable if met on the street, however faintly familiar, are attached to some of the names. Thank goodness maiden names were there for the women. And some I still didn't remember. I left a few hellos not knowing if these will in fact ever be read by their profile owners, but my friendly nature compels me to do so. To my delight I was contacted by a friend from the late 60's that I'd left a hello to. I must say I had a terrible crush on him in my junior year in high school, and he even attended a picnic with my family out near Iowa City on a hot summer's day. Fleeting is a word that would describe our relationship as he was older and off to college. Our paths have not met since that summer, yet I smiled as I read his words. He is on a journey to find enlightenment, and I am on a journey to live each day as a gift. We are not so different, yet our paths are, I believe, very different..... I guess, simple is the word that delights me, I live very simply, yet I believe I stretch each day to it's fullest, and give all the glory to my Lord. I know that I'm not the wisest person on the planet. However I choose to go for the truth, or the truth as I know it. It makes my days longer, my eyes clearer and my sleep sweeter. I am neither judge nor juror. I am excited about life, the good and the bad, the ups and the downs. It's part of the rhythm of life. At times I whine, but then since I have no cheese, I quit....ha ha. I've had moments of deep sadness that have made me a better, stronger person, more caring, less judgmental I believe. I enjoy an even keel, a calm sea, and a gentle breeze. I hope my friend finds what he is searching for. He'll find it in quiet, peaceful times, and gentle smiles for those that love him. Peace.I said that I suspect not having kept in touch with Claudia was to my detriment. Reading this again convinces me of this. What a lovely and beautiful outlook. Obviously, she is still a wonderful spirit. Like most of us, her life has had its ups and downs, but I am very glad to hear that currently her life is good. She lives in a beautiful part of the country and has her own business as a very talented jewelry designer. I wish my very best to you, sweet Claudia.
* * * * * * *
As I've gotten older, I've slowly learned a lesson that I should have taken to heart when I was very young. We live in a society and culture that offers an enormous amount of material benefits. Unfortunately, that same culture elevates money and status to an exalted place in the promise that we can all achieve them in America if we work hard enough, are lucky enough or become famous enough.Yet, the downside of life in 21st Century America is that much of that which makes life truly worth living is set aside or ignored as we reach for the fabled brass ring.
To move toward that goal, many of us leave home and family, move far away and quickly get caught up in the rat race. Parents, always wanting more for their children than they had themselves, will work tirelessly to achieve success, when real success involves the love you give and receive from your children. And when their children leave home to set out toward their own promised future, the cycle begins anew.
It is said that every seven years, each of the trillions and trillions of cells in our bodies has been replaced. Yet, those wonderful, ethereal entities we call memories - especially our most treasured ones - remain with us until the day we die. I believe also that they become a part of our karmic legacy and that those closest to us in this life have been close to us many times before in many previous lifetimes. So even if when we age, our minds grow dim and dementia defines our final mental state, the joy we found in those closest to us will follow us into the next reality.
Joy, then, is what life is about. Our human evolution is all about reaching toward the joy that Spirit, that the Universe, that the Divine, has given us the privilege of participating in with our physical bodies. Call it joy or call it bliss, I believe that it is our destiny and our obligation to achieve it.
What has always been remarkable to me is how many in this world resist joy. The battle between Ego and Self is never ending. Ego is rooted solely in this reality. It views the world as me vs. you. Self, however, is about us, because at the level of Self, there is a realization that we are all ONE, and that the unfathomable quantum event that took place some 13.7 billion years ago at the moment of the Big Bang created the amazing eternal non-local connection of all matter regardless of how far apart each atom is from all the others. At the level of matter where we come into existence, then, there is a very real connection and shared consciousness to everything and everyone in the Universe.
THIS is what mystics, shamans, artists, poets and other spiritual travellers have known since time began. Its revelation is what all religion should be about. Yet sadly, most religions are only about the Ego. If this were not so, there would never be religious wars or conflicts because the idea of wanting to destroy another Self is as absurd as wanting to destroy our own Self. We are all the same Self as well as the same Spirit. Moreover, we all share the same Divine Consciousness.
Tragically, what I've discovered far too late, is that the joy I've always sought in objects and things is Maya: illusion. True and lasting joy is found in the smiles of children, the touch of friends and lovers and the warmth of knowing that there are people in this world who love and care for you.
And a special kind of joy, I've found, is reconnecting with old friends who meant so much in days long ago, and who all now share with you the scars of battles we all wage as we grow and mature in this life. But as has been said, scars are merely the road map to your soul, and the soul is only about love and joy.
I thank these three wonderful souls for sharing the joy of their being with me again after so many years. Namaste, friends.