Writer's Block: Old friends
Oct. 10th, 2009 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Yes, I have "reconnected" with old aquaintances, both over the Internet and in 'real life.' On the flip side, however, I am of that demographic where a certain number of such searches reveal that the object of my inquiry is dead. Recently, for example, the Internet brought me news of the death, back in 1987, of an individual - George was his name - who was my least favorite counselor at summer camp during one otherwise excellent adolescent year.
I hadn't given George a thought, per se, since shortly after that summer ended. It was the summer I had the misfortune to stumble, literally, across a half-hidden milk carton that contained contraband cigarettes belonging to the camp's "big guys." The aftermath was unpleasant for me, as I was forced to chain-smoke about a pack of cancer sticks under George's watchful eye (and those of his cohort) as a "lesson," presumably not to poke my nose where it didn't belong, even if by accident.
I've recalled that cigarette episode several times over the years, but had completely forgotten my tormentors until I heard the news of George's death. I recall my first reaction upon putting a face to his name and realizing who he was and where he stood in relation to me at that camp was that little pit-of-the-gut thump I've experienced whenever I learn that yet someone else I've known of roughly my age group has died.
My second reaction was to ignore the past and hope that he had lived a happy life. There's enough bad feeling in the world, and hanging on to any part of it can't possibly be healthy.
Of searches that have uncovered living, breathing people, none have resulted in a rekindling of any ongoing relations. Perhaps something like that is possible after a short time interval, I don't know. In my case, however, too much time had gone by between then and now. Both parties had changed significantly, with both also aware - perhaps on some subconscious level - that the remaining relevance of the other to one's own life lies only in a set of early and long-unfired synapses that may trigger a pleasant sensation upon reactivation, but nothing more.
To be fair, the exercise has not been completely without reward. A few years ago, a Google search tossed up a result (complete with telephone number) in response to a search, performed on a whim, for the name of my first serious girlfriend. I eventually screwed up the courage to get in touch, which ultimately answered a nagging question I did not have the common sense to ask a long time ago, when we parted ways. In other cases, I've found it curious to listen to people - the fellow who was my roommate during junior year comes to mind - recount what it is they remember of me from back in the day. I, in turn, wonder if my recollection of them strikes them the same way.
Is the game worth the candle? I don't know. Every once in a while, though, I allow myself to be tempted and go fishing in the Internet for people that I knew long ago.
Cheers...
Yes, I have "reconnected" with old aquaintances, both over the Internet and in 'real life.' On the flip side, however, I am of that demographic where a certain number of such searches reveal that the object of my inquiry is dead. Recently, for example, the Internet brought me news of the death, back in 1987, of an individual - George was his name - who was my least favorite counselor at summer camp during one otherwise excellent adolescent year.
I hadn't given George a thought, per se, since shortly after that summer ended. It was the summer I had the misfortune to stumble, literally, across a half-hidden milk carton that contained contraband cigarettes belonging to the camp's "big guys." The aftermath was unpleasant for me, as I was forced to chain-smoke about a pack of cancer sticks under George's watchful eye (and those of his cohort) as a "lesson," presumably not to poke my nose where it didn't belong, even if by accident.
I've recalled that cigarette episode several times over the years, but had completely forgotten my tormentors until I heard the news of George's death. I recall my first reaction upon putting a face to his name and realizing who he was and where he stood in relation to me at that camp was that little pit-of-the-gut thump I've experienced whenever I learn that yet someone else I've known of roughly my age group has died.
My second reaction was to ignore the past and hope that he had lived a happy life. There's enough bad feeling in the world, and hanging on to any part of it can't possibly be healthy.
Of searches that have uncovered living, breathing people, none have resulted in a rekindling of any ongoing relations. Perhaps something like that is possible after a short time interval, I don't know. In my case, however, too much time had gone by between then and now. Both parties had changed significantly, with both also aware - perhaps on some subconscious level - that the remaining relevance of the other to one's own life lies only in a set of early and long-unfired synapses that may trigger a pleasant sensation upon reactivation, but nothing more.
To be fair, the exercise has not been completely without reward. A few years ago, a Google search tossed up a result (complete with telephone number) in response to a search, performed on a whim, for the name of my first serious girlfriend. I eventually screwed up the courage to get in touch, which ultimately answered a nagging question I did not have the common sense to ask a long time ago, when we parted ways. In other cases, I've found it curious to listen to people - the fellow who was my roommate during junior year comes to mind - recount what it is they remember of me from back in the day. I, in turn, wonder if my recollection of them strikes them the same way.
Is the game worth the candle? I don't know. Every once in a while, though, I allow myself to be tempted and go fishing in the Internet for people that I knew long ago.
Cheers...
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no subject
Date: 2009-10-11 01:02 pm (UTC)I know some of my classmates who I suffered some major bullying from, are long ago dead -- their life was "bright and short", in fact dull and short; I couldn't help but feel some sense of the Higher Justice happening (not one and not two of these bullies had died within 10 years of finishing school) -- even though I didn't really wish them anything.
Anyway, so far, number of rekindled friendships and love relationship: Zero.