GastroBlog
dear tammy,happy 40th birthday! its been 27 years since i met you and you're still five weeks older than me. ha!
why is it that "40" feels so weird? i don't get it. 16 was kind of cool. 20 was no big deal. i didn't care much about 21. 25, 30, 33 and 35 were worth noting for their significance as various percentages of 100, i guess, but 40 has really thrown me into some sort of reminiscence mode that i can't get out of.
"40" made me throw a big party for my friend lawrence. "40" has me planning a trip to hang out with ronnie right after we hit it. or it hits us. whichever. i really wanted to do something for you, but i haven't quite determined what would be most appropriate yet. i'm working on something -- i know you know that -- but i haven't gotten very far. i know you know that, too. so i figured, for now, i'd just talk about some of the stuff i remember about you.
i remember sitting in mr. scheuller's seventh-grade social studies class, and you passing me a note. i didn't get a lot of notes from girls. ok, i didn't get any notes from girls. and my cynical nature -- even then -- had me fearing the worst. i figured it was something making fun of me. but it wasn't. it was funny. i don't remember what it said, just how it made me feel. it made me feel that the prettiest girl at jackson heights liked me. over the course of that year, in that class, we passed probably 100 notes back-and-forth. nothing was ever discussed that was more important than maybe how much paul mccartney either sucked or ruled, depending on which direction the note was going. but, man, all these years later, i'm starting to wonder if there is anything more important than that. i kept those notes for a long time. i remember throwing them out, and i forget why i did it. i wish i hadn't.
music was what we talked about a lot, as i recall. i can remember long philosophical phone conversations about whether adam ant was cooler than angus young (still, no). or whether the clash was better than twisted sister (again, no). mostly we talked about how much you hated all the hair metal that i loved, and i hated all the punk that you loved. and that we both loved billy joel. and neither of us completely understood how it worked out that way. i remember these calls lasting hours, before anyone had thought of call waiting. i wonder how many calls our parents missed.
i remember being able to make you laugh hysterically by saying "upper left" and "yellow." i remember why "upper left" made you laugh, but i can't remember why you thought "yellow" was so hilarious. i can still see you laugh. it's a process for you. you start with a little smile, then clearly work to hold it in, then close your eyes, then look down, then shake a little bit ... and then let it all go. watching you laugh made me laugh.
i remember going to see trading places with you. it was rated r. neither one of us was 17. no one questioned us. it was my first date. it probably wasn't a date to you, i know, but it was to me. to that point, i had never felt more important in my life than when i held the door open for you. you probably don't remember that. i do.
i took a summer school class one year just because i knew you needed a ride every day. as it turned out, i graduated early because i had those credits. thanks!
i remember recruiting you to compete in some social studies fair in 11th grade. i had been asked to go for some reason -- i don't remember being particularly good at social studies -- and i knew that if you went, you would need me to drive you to lake mary. you went. it was rainy. you made me listen to the sex pistols. recently, i was at a motley crue concert and they played Anarchy in the U.K., and it made me think of that morning. i think we won something that day, but i forget what. it might have been important, but i don't remember. but i know i listened to the sex pistols all the way there, and all the way back.
i remember taking you to see billy joel on feb. 21, 1984. that was the first time i ever saw him. i remember the date because i thought it was your birthday. then you told me, no, that was the 12th.
i remember you took the rolling stones pin off my cassette case that night and put it on your blouse. i never got it back, and i never cared that i didn't.
i remember saying some stupid stuff that night, and wish i hadn't. i mean, it’s not new that i wish i hadn't. i pretty much wished it right then.
i remember that billy played stiletto that night, and you had never heard it and you loved it. i remember feeling fairly awkward because the song is about s&m. that it made me feel awkward, i think, made you like it more.
i saw him in concert in new york city last year, and he played stiletto. it was probably the 20th time i've seen him, and it was the only other time i saw him play stiletto.
i remember talking to you on the phone the night of some dance that i never in a million years would have cared about going to unless it was with you. you were a little upset because no one had asked you. we made a deal that if neither of us had a date to prom, we would go together. that was my insanely stupid, backhanded way of asking you to go. i still regret that i didn't just ask. you agreed, but you got a date. i didn't. and i know more about that night than i care to.
i remember the night you were home from gainesville and we went to a comedy club to see andrew dice clay. it was when he was at his most controversial. we both love controversial. its hard for me to imagine a better way to spend a couple of hours than listening to you laugh.
i was sure that i was going to tell you how i felt about you that night. but i punked out. again. i always convinced myself that i was afraid to jeopardize our friendship. that's possible, but i always suspected i was just scared. but that night, i was so mad at myself that after i dropped you off, i bought a six-pack, and in the middle of the night went to the office building where i worked and sat out behind it drinking. i got drunk enough that i forgot to throw the bottles away. on monday morning, my boss was telling me how some kids must've been using the parking lot to party, because he found an empty six-pack. i said, "oh ... uh ... really?"
i remember the day you were leaving to go back to gainesville. i picked you up and we went to have breakfast. when i dropped you off, i walked you to the door, and i think i kissed you. innocently, on the cheek. i think you kissed back. i think. i'm not sure now, though, if that's just what i want to remember happening. it seems very possible that i remember something that didn’t happen because that’s how i want it to be.
i remember that i never saw you again.
we talked a million times after that. in letters. letters that went on for pages. on the phone. phone calls that lasted hours. except the one where you told me you were getting married. that one didn't last long.
eventually, we decided it had been too long since we had seen each other. more than six years, which was really just crazy. so we would see each other soon. but that didn't work out.
so, today i went to see you. where you are. technically. sort of. i felt you there, looking at that stone. but, really, i didn't feel you there any more than i feel you everywhere i go. it was rainy, but nothing i couldn't sit through for awhile.
the only other time i came out here, more than a decade ago, you had been here for less than a year, and i didn't know how i was going to feel. i guess it shouldn't have been too hard to figure that i was going to feel bad. i was still wrapped up in how you got here. but now when i think of you, i think about how much you had to do with how i got where i am. it feels selfish to say that, and i don't mean it that way. but you probably have more to do with making me the person i am than anyone i am not directly related to.
here are some of the things you taught me, one way or another:
-- let your guard down.
-- if someone takes advantage of the fact you let your guard down, clock 'em. metaphorically or otherwise.
-- it doesn't have to make sense to be funny. but making sense does make it funnier.
-- never hesitate to be overt.
-- when in doubt, laugh. loudly
-- also laugh loudly when you're absolutely sure.
-- girls think different than boys. not better, not worse. just different.
-- if you think something, say it. with confidence.
-- if you feel something, show it. with confidence.
-- if there are consequences to saying it or showing it, just deal with them. because there are consequences for not saying it or showing it, too. they just hide better.
-- never assume anything.
-- being the only person with a particular opinion doesn't make you wrong.
-- for God's sake, just get in the picture.
-- it's ok to be different. in fact, it may be better.
-- listen to all the words. they may be trying to tell you something.
-- there are no coincidences.
-- there are no guarantees.
thanks for all of that. and for believing in me before i did.
and i'm sorry i didn't do more for you.
peace,
jim
Monday, February 12, 2007
happy birthday, tammy james
