Eccentric Flower:199809/falling out of contact
From Eccentric Flower
«September 1998 «Eccentric Flower
 |
seventeen september ninety eight eleven a m falling out of contact I saw a young woman on the subway today - Ooh, fetch me the Geritol - don't I sound creaky? That's just my weird, sometimes Victorian way of speaking. Given her appearance and props, she was almost certainly a college freshman. At any rate: I saw a young woman on the subway today who reminded me uncomfortably of a friend of mine. Or, rather, reminded me of the child of a friend of mine. Or, rather, reminded me of the child as she might possibly look today, at college age, since I haven't seen her since she was starting high school. It's always nasty business to sever ties with someone - messy - but it's sometimes even worse to look back and realize that you've fallen out of contact with someone without really intending to, with no culprit at hand except sheer inertia. I didn't have many close friends in Louisiana, but this girl's mother was one of them. She's the person who, without advance warning, drove a Ryder truck full of everything I owned up to Boston with me, and the person who changed my life on that same trip with a single conversation held in a roadside restaurant over a sleepy breakfast. And I've barely seen her since then. One problem is that she's not present in an electronic format - I'm sorry to say that my days of nine-page letters are gone forever; I haven't written any correspondence that isn't email or business in years. (I write an ungodly amount of email, though, so the gene to spout words to someone is obviously still working overtime.) Her daughter is, though. So if you're Jan Lavigne, and you happen to come across this page while searching for your name, write me and tell me how the family's doing. And tell your mother I'm finally writing that letter I've put off for so long.
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