Facebook memories say in a day it will be an official six years since I am back in the city and some things are so different than I had imagined they would be.
Though I confess I am not sure if that is because people plan and god laughs or if the man who left Los Angeles in August 2016 is gone.
The Facebook feed is filled with new empty nesters talking about what they intend to do with their nights and days and my head with echoes of the future.
I write about the things I know both those based upon fact and those based upon heart with no concern about those who read between the lines.
If you own keys to the secret kingdom you have license to determine what is and isn’t and if you don’t, well you can guess if you wish.
It is a fool’s errand to do so given the lack of hard data so you can speculate about what might have happened on Judy’s porch but know that you lack the substance that Neville spoke about.
Sweetcheeks is driving the bus and ahm awlfully glahd 2 do sew. 😉
The Girl At The Volleyball Game
Modern technology provided an unexpected opportunity for me to help my daughter.
She was on her way to a lab and as it was her first visit uncertain of exactly where it was though she had a general sense.
Armed with a high speed internet connection and fingers that can type at light speed I found a campus map and sent it to her.
Felt like a secret agent who could whisper in her ear where to turn and when and bam–she was in class and for a brief moment I could be the hero.
Many hours later she texted to say she and a roommate were sitting behind the Wisconsin bench at a volleyball game that was on ESPN+.
Turned it on, spotted her in her seat and saw the smile on her face. It matched the smile I heard in her voice and sensed in her texts.
The magic of a being a freshman in college–I remember it well.
Her foray into the collegiate world has made me think about those early days and some of the ideas I had about what the future might look like.
Truth is though I remember quite a bit there is much that has faded and or blurred.
Though it can be said I went to school during the prior century we still had tools for memorializing our thoughts and ideas.
Daughter might ask if such things were hieroglyphics or printed with quills and I would nod my head and say I am so old I know things.
Those things that relate to that freshman year that aren’t blurred or faded tend to be big events that were burnt into memory or some papers I wrote that I have held onto.
Freshman composition whose tone and structure bear some resemblance to the pieces you read now but show some distinct differences.
Sometimes I read those and it brings me back and sometimes I wonder what I would think if the 18 year-old met the guy who is three times his age.
He would be angry about some things and dumbfounded, that is not a question. But he would be very interested about many others and highly intrigued.
As for who I am now, well it would be interesting to see what I thought about who I was. Would I be ambivalent, angry, embarrassed or impressed?
Maybe some or all of the above.
Doesn’t matter, just food for thought. Though I wonder what 18 year-old me would think of Hurt.
My Best Guess
My best guess is the kid would appreciate the song and be focused on whether we stayed in place or made changes to build the life we wanted.
If such conversation took place there is no doubt I could reference six years ago and say we make things happen.
We don’t just do what is required for others but we also do what is required for ourselves because life is short.
That has to be worth something, now doesn’t it.
So many stories, so little time.
