That Puzzle Called Life

 

What we hoped life would look like

I envision social friendships and relationships like a living jigsaw puzzle. Pieces are continually moving, but some fit together. Some of those fits are fleeting, a few remain connected for a lifetime. We connect with people from a very early age unless we’re sociopathic.

When I look back, there are brief connections that parted, but left a sense of loss, confusion and melancholy. Such emotional memories are good grist for a writer as we can use parts of them in our fiction. Third or fourth grade-Tom H. moved to Union from Massachusetts. We sat in the back of the class and bounced puns off each other. I still remember a couple from our mutual fascination with the TV show The Untouchables...All Capon and Elliott Mess. The following summer, Tom moved back to Massachusetts and I never heard from him again.

Ever have a magical meeting? One summer night in Camden, I was walking down the sidewalk and encountered a girl about my age. We struck up a conversation and I learned that she and her mother were staying overnight on their way back to Canada. She was intelligent, attractive, and intriguing. Somehow, I convinced her mother to let me take her to The Merry Darn in Damariscotta where we square danced for several hours. I brought her back to the motel and thanked her for a great evening. I don’t remember her name or the town where she lived, only that her late father was instrumental in designing the St. Lawrence Seaway.

Four years at Arizona State University yielded more mystery friendships. Freshman year was when I met Teddy B from Colorado. Charismatic would be an accurate description for him. He played guitar and introduced me to the wit and music of Tom Lehrer, something I remain grateful for to this day. Unfortunately, he had a girlfriend back in Colorado who guilted him into returning to Colorado, never to be heard from again.

Sandy F. was another friend I made during my junior year. She was smart, but quiet and we spent many an afternoon hour leaning against the same palm tree, discussing the world and whatever came to mind. She abruptly vanished, and it was rumored she’d been brainwashed into a religious cult.

Andrea and Mickey were in one of my literature classes. We became friends as a result. They were somewhat evasive about their personal histories, saying they had lived in Vietnam or Laos (I seem to remember the country changing at times). They were children of missionaries, although there were hints by more cynical campus dwellers that their parents were CIA agents. In any case, they faded away and I have no clue what happened or where they might be today.

After I graduated and my draft board sent me to perform two years of alternate service at the Augusta State Hospital, I had two other vanishing friends. Shannon Y (who became SLY and others of us the Stoned Family), was a summer worker assigned to my 3-11 team. At first we detested each other, but by the end of the summer had become fast friends. She was going to a junior college in Boston and shared an apartment in the Back Bay. I got in the habit of going to visit her on long weekends. We went to Fenway Park where I learned it wasn’t the brightest idea to be stoned when a foul ball was coming at my head. We visited beaches and historical landmarks. My most vivid memory was when a bunch of us were sitting in the dark, listening to WBCN radio and John Coltrane came on, playing “These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things.” Aside from the music, there was dead silence as we all were entranced by his playing. Shannon and I drifted apart for reasons I cannot remember, and I have no idea where she might be today.

The other lost friend from the early days at the State Hospital was a student nurse I met when she was there for a psych rotation. I was dating one of the other students and when that ended disastrously, and Sharon H. took a job at the hospital, we spent a lot of time hanging out. We made a memorable road trip one week that included a music festival, sunning on a sandy beach by a lake that was miles from nowhere, and putting up a tent in a wild rainstorm by the ocean. When she realized I wasn’t interested in her romantically, she quit her job and took off to see America. The last letter I received was from Silver City, Idaho where she was working and playing softball on a town team. I have been unable to find any trace of her online.

Each of these lost friendships/relationships left me with memories I value to this day. What about your lost puzzle pieces?

And what it really looks like