Nostalgia

 

A sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations is nostalgia.

There is a group on Facebook that is Ole Images of my hometown. Every image gets comments of nostalgia. “My mother worked there…” or “Would go there and…” or “I remember that place…” Most of these images are no longer there or have been transformed into something different. A few have been preserved and under constant restoration but it’s history has changed along with its surroundings. They are the remaining monuments to the past.

The food wasn’t as good as we remember. The stores became dilapidated and succumbed to cultures moods.

Our memories of what these images show are not about the physical building but the people we were with. Where was your high school graduation? Where did you meet your sweetheart? Where you shopped or lived at a certain time of life?

Going back home after long time, you notice the places that are no longer and have a nostalgia rush of fond memories and those who were there at the time.

Recently I lost part of my nostalgia.

 

I really didn’t know him very well, but we stayed in contact to the end. He was a funky guy with a different take on life and enjoyed the communication from afar.

Think I met him from his first wife. She had dated another friend of mine and after they got married we made a connection. There was a lot of wine back then.

I do remember going to his brother’s apartment to move an upright piano up three stories in the fan. Weak minds and strong backs for a wall of rolling rock pony bottles.

Went to his house to be introduced to tool techniques that he was learning at the time and play with his daughter. Went out to eat at a Latino restaurant, had too much sangria and had to stay overnight at his apartment while listening as my wife barfed and he and his wife were going at it like drunken monkeys.

I remember one of my birthday parties and he was climbing up the front steps with this cute blonde. “Wow! What a friend. He’s bringing me a girl!” Turned out to be is second wife.

He did not attend my high school and was a couple years older. He grew up in a suburban neighborhood I never traveled through. He did not attend my wedding and I did not attend his. We both went to the same college but he didn’t graduate. He went into the army because his Draft Lottery number was #1. He was also a French military reeactor. Our paths would rarely cross.

I later found out he had worked at an wood crafting shop then working for the public school system (where he met the cute blonde). He told me of the restaurants we ate in but they are all closed now.

Then they left town.

We would send Christmas cards and some brief handwritten notes. He moved a couple of times and I lost contact with him. Years later I got a phone call that he was in town and at a nearby hotel. He and a partner were running cable for a communication company. I took him to a BBQ place just down the block. Both the hotel and the BBQ place are closed now.

Found him again through Facebook and we started emailing each other. That is where I learned more about him.

I found out he had a son. I found out they were living in a condo outside of the capitol of the commonwealth and not far from Three Mile Island. I convinced him into writing a Blog because he had some interesting and unique readings and quirky ideas. I would have conversations with him about de-hoarding after he went to Florida to clean out his father’s house. We’d communicate about philosophical thoughts rather than current television or popular culture. We didn’t speak of religion or politics. Then his wife informed me of his health conditions.

A few times they would come to town. He reconnected with his daughter. He brought his old bicycle down (that I had refurbished and donated to Goodwill). He gave me his father’s cassette player (that I wore out digitizing old cassettes). We went to a local show where his buddy from high school played drums. He regal tales of his world wide traveling while fussing about plane delays.

He enjoyed music and like one of my guitars, so I gave it to him. He had it tweaked but not sure he kept up the effort. He had a rock and roll history with a local band but he was a roadie instead of a performer. We jammed once doing ole instrumental surf music. His latest hobby was bookbinding.

I took a daylong train ride up to their place to attend an art exhibition the next day. They live in a clean suburban decor with two cats and a love tub. While his wife went off to work, we walked downtown to New Cumberland while picking up trash along the way. I was fascinated about the rural feel. That may have been nostalgia from a past life.

He was fairly quiet and unobtrusive. He was a wealth of rare knowledge of history. He was the mixologist of the family and the grill master. He spoke of the finer points of ingredients and techniques of fine dining, yet if he didn’t start the chili on time was continuously scolded. He was fairly quiet and unobtrusive.

One of the last times he was in town, we walked down to one of those old school family restaurants and talked about nostalgia. On the way home, I thought about if this was a bad idea for a long walk with his health situation and I didn’t have his wife’s number on my phone.

If I ever did one of my caricatures, I’d have to use both of their faces. They were rarely apart. They were still dating.

Recently his wife posted Triple G had left us.