Kenny

when past meets present....

I walked into the swanky brunch place in San Francisco not knowing what it would be like seeing him again. It had been 25 years since we last spoke or saw each other. The place was crowded but suddenly I heard my name and turned around and there he was.

“You look exactly the same!” he said.

“You don’t, “ I responded and laughed. His long, wild brown hair was now gray and short, but still a little wild.

We sat down and began catching up on the years and as I looked across the table at him it was the same 17 year old face and eyes that I was going to spend my life with.

I’m standing on line at the grocery store waiting when the smell of patchouli brings me instantly back to high school. We met at a party. He didn’t even go to my school, but we spent the party talking and laughing and I don’t even remember what else. We knew we needed to see each other again.

He lived a few towns away so would take the long island railroad to come see me at my house. Or I would drive my 1971 Pinto to his house, which I liked so much better. We would hang out in his room, which I remember thinking was so cool, as he had a bed AND a couch in the room as well as a gigantic stereo system with speakers almost as tall as me. We spent hours in that room smoking cigarettes, weed, spending time on the couch and in the bed, and then eating bowls of Cap’n Crunch with Crunch Berries in the kitchen. Or some days we would meet up with two or three of his friends (who soon became my friends) and drive around town in a VW bus with the sliding door open, laughing and drinking beer and listening to music. Or we’d end up at a party. It seemed like there were always many parties, or maybe it was just the times. It seemed like there were never any parents around. It was the late 70s, so there is that.

Then we started taking the train into the city (NYC for those of you unfamiliar with the expression “the city” which it was for kids growing up on Long Island.) After all it is “THE City.” We would wander Greenwich Village finding record stores, used clothing stores, and hanging out in ‘the park” (Washington Square Park.) He was a photographer and was never without his camera. Documenting the adventure, whether it was a random reflection in a store window, me modeling some “new/old” clothing, street performers in the park or the subway or a self timer portrait (there were no selfies yet.) It was all so artsy and creative, as only a 17 year old can be. Sometimes we would stay into evening and go see live music at CBGBs or Bowery Ballroom or the Palladium. It was never a problem to get into these places. The legal drinking age was 18 in NY back then, but even that did not seem too well enforced. Patti Smith, The Ramones and Devo were some of the epic bands we got to see for the price of a drink I seem to remember. We did go to see the amazing Frank Zappa one Halloween and had to buy a ticket for that, but I’m sure it was under $10.

I was graduating high school that year, so we decided he would come to my prom. I am not sure who’s idea it was or who decided that we would wear matching tuxedos, complete with a top hat, tails and a cane. But that is what we did. I don’t remember much of the prom. But I do remember waking up the next morning on the beach somewhere, in each other’s arms, not wearing the tuxedos anymore.

He wrote on the entire back page of my yearbook (back in the day that was reserved for your “special person.”) It was all about how were going to be together forever, living in a little house in the woods, growing our own food. I am not sure we thought about where our income would come from. We were in love so that didn’t matter. Our song was “Our House,” by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young and we believed that would be our life.

That summer he got a job working on the town road crew, and spending summer days pouring hot tar on the road, that was not at all fun. His mom worked for the county I seem to remember and was able to get him a job sitting in booth at the local park where he was to collect fees from cars, but probably mostly got stoned.

All this time my eating disorder was playing a quiet role in the background. He was thin too and we almost had matching bodies. It was during this time I also discovered “speed” that would keep me awake for days and suddenly not hungry anymore. I remember almost a magical feeling in my body, of weightlessness and the power in being empty, and my body kept shrinking. One day, it was decided that I would be better off in a hospital. The weight had dipped so much that I was in medical danger.

Then suddenly he was off to college and I was off to the hospital again. We never actually “broke up” but I went to visit him at college and it was clear that he had moved on but we pretended that things were fine that weekend until they weren’t.

It has been quite a few years since that reunion in San Francisco and we still talk on the phone, send each other texts and photos, and chat about teenage memories, but more so about life today. He is married to someone else now but still living in California. Both of his parents have passed away. I am still with the same person but have lived in 5 different states since then. My dad passed away but my mom still lives in the house where he used to take the train to see me.

There is just something so sweet and wonderful and intense about “love” at 17, and how different love feels at 35 and 60. But they are all good. Yet there is also something so lovely (that’s a Kenny word) about reconnecting with someone who has known you so long ago and now gets to know you again, but in such a different, yet somehow familiar way. Maybe because it started when we were so young, but the bond feels almost precious. Our conversations flow easily, as if years and years haven’t passed. After all we are the same people whose lives have taken so many different twists and turns and paths yet somehow luckily are still intersecting.

Thanks for taking the time to read my little memory… hope it brought a sweet memory back for you. Care to share? I’d love to hear….