Looking back

I watched Lazy Eye the other night, a 2016 film by director Tim Kirkman, that explores the idea of carrying a torch for 15 years and trying to rekindle a relationship. Dean and Alex spent a summer together in New York City long ago and now Dean is a successful LA graphic designer – and married. Alex has never gotten over Dean and tracks him down to try to win him back. It’s not a great film and you can guess how it ends (hint: Dean remains married).

But it resonated with me because all my life I have reached into to my past to reconnect. As an Army brat, I never had the luxury of spending years and years with the same friends. I’d meet people and move, meet people and move. I’ve never tried to restart an old love, but, nonetheless, a lot of the territory Lazy Eye covered was familiar.

In 1974 I spent the month of August on the road. I left Richmond for a night in Charlottesville and then on to Toronto, Detroit, Montreal, Rochester, Provincetown & New York. I visited my friend TMcD in Detroit, my family in Rochester and a budding boyfriend in New York, but in the other cities I knew no one and counted on the kindness of strangers for lodgings.

Montreal was difficult. I spoke no French and three men in a row whom I approached in a gay bar shrugged and said, “Je ne parle pas anglais.” (Or did they say “Je ne suis pas intéressé”?)

I finally met John Campbell and spent 4 wonderful days with him. I won’t flesh this story out because I already told it here.

I’ve never seen John since but I remember him well. I am happily married and have no need of rekindling anything with anyone, but I would nonetheless love to see him again, just as I would love to see Gary Winston, Will Buergey, Tina Rice, Sandy Adams, Stephen Wells, Cheryl Hewitt, Craig Simmons, Karle Rhodes and Patrick Meehan, all important people from my past with whom I have lost touch. As I get older those memories seem to mean even more. The highlight of the last months has been my reconnection with Art and Ed Friedman, high school friends I hadn’t spoken to in almost fifty years.

Does all this mean I’m less a cynic than before? No, not really. Just a cynic with a warm and fuzzy streak.