I was telling someone today that I am terrible with keeping up correspondences. I suppose for me it’s “out-of-sight out-of-mind.” But there was one exception in my younger years. When I was 13, I moved from Monterey Park, CA to Atlanta, GA. On the last day at my old middle school a girl I used to play basketball with gave me a slip of paper with her address on it and asked me to write her. Her name was Stephanie Tanaka and I thought of her like one of the guys (partly because she was better at basketball than I was and about two inches taller). We wound up writing about once a week for the next four years. A lot of other people had promised to write, and some did write me for a little while, but after about 4 months the letters were few and far between… except for Steph’s. They were nothing profound – mostly just a recap of what happened in our lives since the last letter. But every week I would look forward to hearing from my dear friend and would jump a little each time I would see the familiar handwriting on the envelope in the mailbox. I remember that she would send me her class photo every fall, and I was amazed at how she gradually turned from a rough-and-tumble tomboy into one hot mama. We continued to correspond through college and into our twenties. Even after the advent of e-mail, we continued to put pen to paper to keep in touch. Granted, as the years passed, we couldn’t write once a week like we did when we were kids, but it was often enough. By the end, we had been writing each other for close to 15 years. Now this is the point in the story when people want to hear that we ran into each other in a cafe in Paris and had a whirlwind romance, but alas, no. She is married now and lives somewhere in Northern California, and I haven’t heard from her in over 5 years.
It’s interesting how people, even ones who were with you through a significant portion of your life, pass in and out of your life. People you meet in hallways and rooms in moments of marginal significance, over the years, become like members of your family. Names and faces you didn’t pay particular attention to for years suddenly become people of personal importance. People you used to hate, you love… people you used to love, you forget about… And many times the last time you see them or hear from them, you don’t realize at that time that it will be the last time. But each of those people impacted you in ways I’m sure none of us will be fully aware.
I think this passing is necessary… in fact, a blessing. If for all your life you only have the same people to be a blessing to and to be blessed by… how much would you miss out on all those other wonderful people that God created amazingly unique for you to be blessed by? And it’s not as if those in the past are completely lost. You carry them with you in who you are… in the memories you have… in the accent in your voice… in the jokes you tell… in the convictions you hold true… in the way they taught you how to eat tacos. I think of those I know now, and how in 10… 20 years I may not see a single one of them anymore. I suppose it should make the moments we now share that much more meaningful, but I know that, like always, I will take them for granted as if they will always be there. The only solace is in knowing that for many of them I will see them in heaven after my story on earth ends.
So inspired by my memories of my friend from my youth, I dug through my closet for a cardboard box I knew was in there somewhere. Without too much difficulty I produced it, pulled the tape off the top, and opened the time capsule of my life. I quickly found the huge stack of letters from 837 N. Maple Ln…
(truncated sample)
September 19, 1986
Dear Nathan,
Hi! I’m really sorry it’s taken me soooo long [two weeks] to write, but I’ve been really busy! Just one thing after another! So, how’s school! The ole grind! Fun huh.
***
How is your paint by numbers going? Almost finished? Well, I hope you finish.
On Sunday I will be going to the Whitney Houston concert. I hope it’s good cause I don’t know what time I’ll get home.
***
Basketball practice has been really hard ’cause we have been running every other day on the amphitheatre steps a couple of hundred times! After our first run we were soooo sore. My legs feel better now. A couple of days ago they felt like spagetti right after we ran.
Our Junior class sucks! Our president does not know what the he is doing. Oh well, I better jam ’cause I have lots of work to do so I’ll be waiting for your next letter! Take care!Friends Always,
StephP.S. Sorry it’s soo short [3 pages] and sloppy!
I found other things in the box that made me laugh… such as my Prom photo (I thought about posting it, but I didn’t want to make people laugh uncontrollably at work) and the bear from this story of my first crush .
Update:
A couple days ago I posted an entry about the odd street names in Columbia… well, today it made national news – HAHA!
AHHHHHHH!!!!!! i’ve tried every combination of “scary” and still no can do.btw, very insightful post (sentimentality forgiven). and very bold – what you did in “story of my first crush”.
post the picutre!
nice entry
Thanks preciouslambs and grocery! And jeannecho… no! HAHAHA
you must’ve been popular back in hs… nobody wanted to go to prom with me :o(
Ah, but phatboytim… actually my first choice for Prom turned me down cold. I actually wound up going with her sister… now that’s a story in and of itself.