There are many people I know who have the ultimate FaceBook list of friends. Every person they have shared more than a sentence with, had a coffee, a beer, a tear, or a friendly "spat" exchange, they stay in contact with--for reals! So, when it comes to lost lovers, ex-partners, spouses and significant others, they simply add them to the train, seamlessly.
In the old days, when one was conscientious, or polite, or had the time (whatever that meant!) a holiday card list would strengthen the parade of people. Oh sure, the mailing costs alone were increasingly outrageous...still, a sense of community; of belonging; of "doing something during the holidays" prevailed. Some folks would write elaborate and rambling tomes.(New family alliances; lost jobs; babies and pets; even the make, model and color of the most recent car would be included.)
Hardly a "love note", these letters were often smudged, poorly typed and hand- decorated--but they were a tangible connection to an ever-receding group of friends. Often the butt of comedians and bad toasts, for a few, it might be the only personal mail received the entire holiday season. What amazed me, was the sheer number of these manuscripts that were sent off--and the ambered addresses that would be resurrected in order to mail them.
Today, we have social media. Sometimes it is pointed out that "less is more"--thus the brevity- delight one finds attached to texting and Twitter. (I counter with the number of texts to say pretty inane things...it seems, though, that I'm out-voted.) Social media makes it quite easy to track down old buddies.(Even past lovers.) No more pawing through ancient yearbooks. No dragging college roomies to seedy bars to ply them with drinks (and innocuous conversation) leading to,"So, did you see Soandso at the Reunion in September?" Even criminal and tax info can be gleened fairly easily these days, if one is so inclined.
But, I'm not musing about ways to be a stalker, here. (Nor am I in my cups and feeling alone.) I am simply noticing the transitory nature of human existence, up close and personal. How some folks are masters at holding on to people--even if their holding is illusionary or vapid. Even if the content of those connections is one-dimensional and awkward. (Or maybe, that is the key?) They are not threatening. They are not demanding. They really are not even inquiring. They simply want people to know they are still around--what they are doing--where they have been. (Less important, it seems, is where the other person has traveled. Who the other person has grown into.)
For me, I have been lousy at holding on to connections with lost loves. Friendships are more solid. Friends come back, like the seasons.
Not so with people who have peopled my heart. It might be that I've never been a good break-up artist. (Either leaving or being left, it has always been a fitful scene.) Short of actual bloodshed, the losses seemed more like the last battle in an epic war--where it doesn't matter who the victor is--only that those final losses were needless.
In such cases, searching for "old loves" via social media, is a waste. Even if one did track down a ghost, what could one say that would actually make a difference? (A new connection? To what end?) Reburying the dead is not an assignment anyone wants. (All the amends-making-forgiving-and forgetting stuff I've done in spades.)
Yet, if I'm to be honest,there is a kind of soft curiousity, still...a nagging pull. Did they accomplish their goals? What adventures continued forward? Is there any pain? Who might they have turned into? Are they even, still alive?
Because I have not become rich nor famous; have not completed the challenges I set before myself, decades earlier (not yet): have not traveled to Tibet nor met breathing aliens nor founded my own school of the arts nor discovered the answer to world peace, there is little to crow about.
Because I am not seeking an audience for my life, nor a fan-base, I won't be sending any "this is my year" tomes out at Christmas (nor Solstice, for that matter). I don't mean to be harsh. I am not criticizing people who do. It is just not for me.
Yet, my dreams keep popping missing people into my consciousness. Mostly past loves I've lost through the ages. They come back, not in anger or remorse, or even with romantic intentions--they just come back and walk beside me for a while. Not exactly spectres nor portents of doom. They just ...enter. Their tracks are the question marks in my eyes when I awake.
"What was THAT? Where are they? What am I supposed to know?"
So, for all of you I have lost, for whatever reasons, if you are wondering: the answer is "Yes."
I still do think of you.
I have been forever haunted; you are carried, still, in my dreams.
In the old days, when one was conscientious, or polite, or had the time (whatever that meant!) a holiday card list would strengthen the parade of people. Oh sure, the mailing costs alone were increasingly outrageous...still, a sense of community; of belonging; of "doing something during the holidays" prevailed. Some folks would write elaborate and rambling tomes.(New family alliances; lost jobs; babies and pets; even the make, model and color of the most recent car would be included.)
Hardly a "love note", these letters were often smudged, poorly typed and hand- decorated--but they were a tangible connection to an ever-receding group of friends. Often the butt of comedians and bad toasts, for a few, it might be the only personal mail received the entire holiday season. What amazed me, was the sheer number of these manuscripts that were sent off--and the ambered addresses that would be resurrected in order to mail them.
Today, we have social media. Sometimes it is pointed out that "less is more"--thus the brevity- delight one finds attached to texting and Twitter. (I counter with the number of texts to say pretty inane things...it seems, though, that I'm out-voted.) Social media makes it quite easy to track down old buddies.(Even past lovers.) No more pawing through ancient yearbooks. No dragging college roomies to seedy bars to ply them with drinks (and innocuous conversation) leading to,"So, did you see Soandso at the Reunion in September?" Even criminal and tax info can be gleened fairly easily these days, if one is so inclined.
But, I'm not musing about ways to be a stalker, here. (Nor am I in my cups and feeling alone.) I am simply noticing the transitory nature of human existence, up close and personal. How some folks are masters at holding on to people--even if their holding is illusionary or vapid. Even if the content of those connections is one-dimensional and awkward. (Or maybe, that is the key?) They are not threatening. They are not demanding. They really are not even inquiring. They simply want people to know they are still around--what they are doing--where they have been. (Less important, it seems, is where the other person has traveled. Who the other person has grown into.)
For me, I have been lousy at holding on to connections with lost loves. Friendships are more solid. Friends come back, like the seasons.
Not so with people who have peopled my heart. It might be that I've never been a good break-up artist. (Either leaving or being left, it has always been a fitful scene.) Short of actual bloodshed, the losses seemed more like the last battle in an epic war--where it doesn't matter who the victor is--only that those final losses were needless.
In such cases, searching for "old loves" via social media, is a waste. Even if one did track down a ghost, what could one say that would actually make a difference? (A new connection? To what end?) Reburying the dead is not an assignment anyone wants. (All the amends-making-forgiving-and forgetting stuff I've done in spades.)
Yet, if I'm to be honest,there is a kind of soft curiousity, still...a nagging pull. Did they accomplish their goals? What adventures continued forward? Is there any pain? Who might they have turned into? Are they even, still alive?
Because I have not become rich nor famous; have not completed the challenges I set before myself, decades earlier (not yet): have not traveled to Tibet nor met breathing aliens nor founded my own school of the arts nor discovered the answer to world peace, there is little to crow about.
Because I am not seeking an audience for my life, nor a fan-base, I won't be sending any "this is my year" tomes out at Christmas (nor Solstice, for that matter). I don't mean to be harsh. I am not criticizing people who do. It is just not for me.
Yet, my dreams keep popping missing people into my consciousness. Mostly past loves I've lost through the ages. They come back, not in anger or remorse, or even with romantic intentions--they just come back and walk beside me for a while. Not exactly spectres nor portents of doom. They just ...enter. Their tracks are the question marks in my eyes when I awake.
"What was THAT? Where are they? What am I supposed to know?"
So, for all of you I have lost, for whatever reasons, if you are wondering: the answer is "Yes."
I still do think of you.
I have been forever haunted; you are carried, still, in my dreams.
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