Life is full of coincidences.
Getting a phone call from a cousin about 20-minutes after writing a short story about her is strange. Especially since we've not been close since 1979, have never spoken on the phone before, and haven't seen or talked to each other in 6 years. But most of my strange coincidences of the past couple of days are the result of having my eyes open for certain themes.
Ever since I listened to that Bon Jovi song last week and started to think about a girl I went to grade school with, my mind has been occupied with thoughts of former friends, how lives grow apart, and how some relationships have faded endings rather than sharp ones.
With my friend K. (who is coming to visit next week!) I clearly remember the ending of that friendship in 1985. The details are fuzzy but I remember the rift. I had another friend, L., in 6th and 7th grade and I remember that end too. L. was stealing money from my mom's purse. I was furious that my mom would blame her without red-handed proof and came up with several alternate explanations: the door was open and someone came in, saw the purse on the couch, and took the money out of her wallet; my mom spent it and forget; the bank teller miscounted the bills. But it was not a one time occurrence, there was a pattern and the common factor was L. When confronted, L. had an alternate explanation too, she said I stole the money. Even so, I was more crushed that I was no longer allowed to see her than I was that she lied and blamed me.
With most earlier girlfriends though, I'm left with "what happened? when was the last time I even saw them? Did we argue?" I don't remember being hurt or heartbroken when the friendships ended. We just grew up and apart and started new friendships. We were distracted with new things and never even noticed that something was ending.
Matthew Sweet's Evangeline has been roaming around my head ever since I posted the clip from The Last Waltz. I decided to listen to Girlfriend on the way to work today and realized I had similar questions and feelings about this album. I used to love that album. I remember dancing and singing along with Divine Intervention in my house in Hamtramck before I packed up my stuff and moved across the country with no set destination in mind.
I don't know where I'm gonna live
I don't know if I'll find a place
I'd have to think about it some
And that I do not wish to face
I guess I'm counting on His
Divine intervention
And then thinking about how I didn't believe in God (or at least a God who intervenes on the micro-level of finding me a cheap apartment out West) so I didn't even have that plan to count on. When did I stop listening to that album regularly? I have no idea. I didn't feel the loss when I did ... I guess I was too busy with new albums.
The catch up with Matthew Sweet was easier than the catch up with my cousin. People are more complicated and, while time might make an album sound dated, it can be much crueler to old friends.
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