"Haunt" Tracing

Or, how I spend three days talking without pause . . .


We've all had friendships of "proximity" -- at the water cooler, the sand box, or the shared fence. While they last, these sorts of friendships are great fun -- and a natural and necessary part of life. But more often than not, (and sometimes even surprisingly so), when you take away the shared props and bonding basis, only the ghost of former friendship remains. Perhaps most friendships are of this sort, and realistically, they do have value -- as long as you can accept the limited shelf life.


However, there is another kind of friendship, too. The rarer kind; the kind that really lasts. This friendship might be based on mutual interests, too, but it is lit from within by some indefinable kind of chemical spark. The kind that doesn't need constant feeding. Even if starved for years, a true friendship can go from dormant to vital -- especially if given the rich compost of unfettered time.


I wonder: Does each person have an essence that remains unchanged -- no matter how many changes they might undergo? If you come to know the essence or the core of the person, do you always "know" them . . . even if time and distance get in the way?


When I was 20/21, I had a little box room in a sort of boarding house for American college students. Mabledon Court. WC2. At the edge of Bloomsbury; the rough, ungentrified edge near the gateway train stations of King's Cross, Euston, and St. Pancras. Down the hall from me was Michelle, from Minnesota. Unlike most of the other students, we two commuted across town to Queen Mary College on the Mile End Road. We were both English majors; unsurprisingly, we shared the love of reading. But books alone, although they are good food and a marvelous touchstone, aren't quite enough to make a friendship.

Sometimes friendship is like spontaneous combustion; and sometimes (often, in my experience) this sort of friendship burns out quickly, too. My friendship with Michelle was slower to spark, and it took time to build. She was cautious, I think, about making new friends -- and I was all over the place, spreading myself thin with new experiences and acquaintances. However, by the spring of that year, we were intensely close friends and that friendship was part of the magic of living in London for a year and discovering who I was (or rather, wanted to be).

Saying goodbye to London, and returning home to my senior year in Texas, was a wrench. At first, Michelle and I saw each other regularly -- in Texas, and New York City, and Connecticut, and Minneapolis -- and of course we corresponded frequently. But over time -- and 20 years is a long time -- our visits were reduced to my occasional visit to New York City. The last time we saw each other was fall 2002 -- when I stopped in NYC on my way to West Point to visit my brother. Michelle met me at my hotel room, and we talked in the hallway for a couple of hours -- because my children were tucked up in bed.

Sometimes life gets in the way of friendship -- we all know that. Soon after I saw Michelle in that hotel hallway, my marriage broke up . . . and it took a long time to mend. Mending it was so involving, and so emotionally draining, that many friendships got neglected. It all seemed too much to explain, and I couldn't always understand what was happening to me, anyway. My life had lost a describable shape, and my future was a frightening blank.

Although I sent Christmas cards, I was never sure if Michelle received them. We moved six times in those five years -- and I wondered if Michelle had moved, too. I thought of her, though, particularly when a shared favorite crossed my path again. Nanci Griffith, May Sarton, Gifts from the Sea -- these were amongst the memories that I had shared with Michelle. If I lived to be 100, I doubt that I could think of them without thinking of her, too.

When I decided to start a blog, I named it Bee Drunken -- it had been a poem that Michelle and I discovered together, and we had dedicated ourselves to living that 21st year in the most "be drunken" way possible. Becoming "Bee" again was so intermingled with this friendship; I couldn't bear to be Bee without being in touch again with Michelle. So I decided to Google her. (I know that other people would have thought of this option long, long ago; but as I stated, in my opening blog, I am a computer idiot -- or more kindly, innocent.)

I asked Michelle if she minded being blogged about, and she just laughed -- wryly? The truth is, Michelle is already very much part of the public domain. As a writer for BusinessWeek, her byline is all over the Internet. And as I discovered, when I googled her, her life in the last couple of years has been part of a social experiment of sorts. I will be writing more about this later, because it is fascinating, but if I've piqued your interest you can read this article . . . just as I did, one February day.

I know that there is a school of thought that says we make our own luck, and I would agree that some part of that is true. But I have a more mystical side, too, and it acknowledges the role of serendipity and unexplained good fortune in life. Because not long after reestablishing contact with Michelle, I received an email which trumpeted the good news that she would be coming to London for a visit. Amazingly enough to me, as I have been in and out of London for most of my adult life, Michelle had never been back. Thus, not only was she visiting me, she was revisitng a time and place whose memories had been entirely untrampled by fresher experience. Happily, all the stars aligned -- and not only was I able to join her for some "haunt tracing," but the English weather conspired to give us some rare glorious spring days for our jaunting.

So all of this is background to understanding just why this past weekend, spent in London with Michelle, could have been the set-up for disappointment . . . but instead was like one long wordy ode to the glories of friendship. Never for one minute was I unaware of how much a gift it was to be given time with my friend -- time without constraint or consideration for the needs of family, jobs, houses or other pressing obligations. As Michelle would say, it was delicious; we ate it up.

And yet: I suppose there is always an inherent melancholy to haunt tracing -- particularly the haunts of 20 years ago. The evidence that life has moved on is always incontrovertible. Mabledon Court is an inexpensive hotel now, and I wonder how many travellers (or even immigrants) to this country spend some time in its box-like rooms. (A kindly African man let Michelle see her own rooms, and she was amused to see what a "dump" we had lived in.) I hope, like us, these new inhabitants are too excited by the possibilities of London to mind their claustrophobic, spare sleeping place much.

Our most-beloved haunt, The Hermitage, had closed more than fourteen years ago. I had tried to visit it soon after, soon enough to find the notice on the door announcing that the owners had sold up and moved to Greece. We wasted much time wandering around looking for a Cranks -- the vegetarian restaurant that had been a neighborhood favorite, and was still listed on the Internet. Perhaps it had only been recently swallowed up -- by the ongoing march of Starbuck's and that sort. We ended up eating a late, and rather indifferent lunch -- but we were too engrossed in conversation to notice or care. Another favorite, Troubadour Cafe in Earl's Court, was still going strong . . . but the soothing candlelit atmosphere and delicious "white" coffee was gone -- replaced by blaring music and weak lattes and cappuccinos.

And yet, none of this really mattered. London had changed, like we had changed -- but the essence of London was still there, and it still beckoned to us and beguiled us. We drifted rather aimlessly around Regent's Park, and as we climbed to the top of Primrose Hill the city lay at our feet. I had been telling Michelle about some secret heartbreak, and as I looked down from our green perch I realized that time had, almost imperceptibly, healed me. I felt a rush of love and gratefulness -- partly for Michelle, partly for Everything.

Serendipity ruled the day: at one point we got lost, somewhere in the beautiful neighborhood of St. John's Wood. We had gone off my map, and were relying on only my dubious sense of direction. Without knowing, we had drifted onto the famous Abbey Road -- a place that neither of us had visited before. Except for the graffitti on a pair of pillars, we couldn't have distinguished the famous music studio from any of the other beautiful houses in that area . . . and yet there was still magic in realizing that the The Beatles had recorded most of their timeless music there. The ghosts of London always make marvelous companions for the imagination.

There were also new treasures to discover -- particularly at the gorgeous shops on Marylebone High Street. I relished introducing Michelle to some of the things that I currently love in London. At Daunt's bookstore, I bought Michelle a copy of Nancy Mitford's great English classics -- because she had never read them. I also found Coetzee's Life and Times of Michael K. and Lessing's The Grass is Singing down in Daunt's South African section. (I had been searching for these books for weeks!) Daunt's are known for their travel books, and rather idiosyncratically, they group fiction and travel literature by country. Michelle's little daughter absolutely needed a china mug, painted with quirky brown chickens, from Emma Bridgewater. We shared a plate of colorful macaroons (in the French style) at Paul -- a haunt that I share with my dear friend Jenni.

Everything about the weekend was a delicious bon bon -- beautiful on the inside and out.

Mostly we just talked -- and London was the backdrop for that conversation. On Friday, we estimated that we talked for twelve straight hours without pause. I probably did more than my share of talking, as Michelle is the most marvelous listener. It would be tempting to say that journalism has honed her listening skills, but actually, she listens in just the same way as I remember. She fixes you with her big brown eyes; she nods; she occasionally repeats phrases; if you are lucky, she laughs with much gusto and appreciation. She listens with great attention; quite a rarity, in my experience. I enjoyed the fact that the occasion for her visit to London was a journalism award for "Best Communicator."

We talked about all of the subjects we've always talked about: books and writing, above all; then family and relationships; travel; food; politics; the environment; memories; music; shoes and clothes; and assorted pop culture detritus. We also talked about marriage and motherhood -- two subjects new to us since our long-ago London days. I never felt that there was a veil between us; but only that open-heartedness and complete attention that is rare, even with close friends.

Although our haunt tracing was not a complete success, it was a delight to discover that we have so much more in common than just a shared past. Our visit was part sentimental journey -- but the greater part, by far, was about a friendship that still has the stuff to run and run.

Tagged!

K, my new fun friend from Kansas City tagged me today.

My assignment? To share things about myself in groups of 4's.

4 jobs I've had:

Waitress -- all through the higher education years I waitressed. I've worked in some memorable restaurants, too. 410 Diner in San Antonio. Kerbey Lane Cafe in Austin. Star Pizza in Houston. I loved being a waitress -- because I really like to have lots of cash in hand! (I went to a wacky astrological therapist once and she said that all Capricorns are like this!) Seriously, I love talking to people and I especially liked working the all-night Saturday shift at Kerbey Lane. All of the musicians used to come in between 2 and 4 am. Once, a hippie stoner left me a $140 tip for a cup of coffee! My coolest customer ever was Lyle Lovett at the 410 Diner.

Editorial Assistant -- I actually can't remember my exact "title" for this job, but it was the most boring job on the planet. It was my first 40 hour a week job out of college, and by the end of the year I had decided to apply to graduate school. Basically, I wrote and proofread sentences for those ghastly standardized tests that young school children are tortured with every year. (At least when I was a kid it was every other year -- which left more time to make bluebonnets out of tissue paper.) We used to spend hours making sure that no names were repeated; that we varied animals, colors, sports, etc. The only good thing about it was the people. We worked in a huge basement at long tables -- just like drones. We had to be quiet, so we acted just like children -- making jokes and trying to get each other to laugh out loud. I was always getting told off for talking, and I quit before I could get fired. The first thing I did was road-trip down to New Orleans with my boyfriend to see the Heritage Jazz and Blues Festival. I still remember the sweetness of the freedom.

Graduate Advisor -- this was a really fun job. When I was getting my second Master's degree I worked in the Education office. As my "title" suggests, I got to "advise" people -- which was right up my alley. I didn't skimp on the advice, either -- I gave really good value. I loved the secretaries in the office; they were a hoot! That job was all about coffee, doughnuts, and gossip -- three of my favorite things in the world.

Teacher -- I worked at the International School in Port of Spain for a year -- and then I got pregnant, and that was the end of that for awhile. Anyway, I made a lifelong friend at this school, and I loved my students, too. They were a really diverse bunch and some of them had been through a lot in their short lives. I'm pretty sure that I learned more that year than they did.

4 favorite movies:

2 Days in Paris -- this is my most recent rental, and I really liked everything about it. The beautiful French actress Julie Delpy wrote, starred, and directed -- and did a fine job in all areas. It is very "talky," full of hilarious characters, and has an interesting ending. And it takes place in Paris. What more do you want?

Cousins -- I really pulled this one out of my hat. I haven't thought about it in ages, but I've seen it three or four times. It is based on a French movie, and probably influenced "Four Weddings and a Funeral" in its turn. Set in Vancouver -- spectacular scenery and that gorgeous transporting kind of cinematography. There is a large, interesting cast -- but the leads are played by Isabella Rossellini and Ted Danson. It takes everything that is funny about families and weddings and then wraps a sweet little love story around it.

Harold and Maude -- I love quirky romances, and what could be quirkier than this pairing? Everything about this movie is unexpected and original. And I adore Ruth Gordon; I want to be Ruth Gordon when I grow up.

Raising Arizona -- with apologies to Monique, this is an extremely funny movie. Nic Cage and Holly Hunter were perfect in their roles. My first taste of the Coen brother sensibility. I definitely want them on my dream dinner party guest list -- Frances McDormand, too. (Perhaps they would explain the ending of No Country for Old Men?) I need to see this again; it's been too long.

4 places I've been:

Napa Valley, California -- Sigmund and I went here the first year we were dating. How could I resist him? I want to go back now that I know little more about wine. For some reason, what I really remember were all of the delicious artichokes that I ate.

New York City -- the most exciting place in the world for me. Food; theater; movies; shopping; Central Park; people watching. All my favorite things.

Prague -- beautiful city that I visited, unfortunately, in January. I want to see it again in the spring or fall. I am fascinated by Milan Kundera.

Barbados -- we were fortunate enough to live in the Caribbean, and I've been here a couple of times. Bliss on earth is eating at The Cliff, overlooking the ocean.

4 places I've lived:

Landstuhl, Germany -- I was born here. A not-well-known fact about me.

San Antonio, Texas -- I picked my university, Trinity, largely because it was in this great city. My family has a lot of associations with San Antonio: my parents actually met there. I love San Antonio for its weather (excepting the summer months, when the asphalt has been known to melt), its food, and its wonderful fiesta spirit. There are so many great places to sit outside and have a good burger and a margarita -- and something about that exemplifies the city for me. I've been going to Mi Tierra -- open 24 hours a day; year-round -- all my life.

Port of Spain, Trinidad -- I was hugely lucky to live here. It is a really unique, stunningly diverse and multicultural place. Also fun, fun, fun. Some of the best, most memorable years so far; and every good friend I had from this era is still an important part of my life.

London, England -- when I first came to London, at age 15, I remember thinking: This is the place for me! I spent the most exciting year of my life here; I haven't been able to top it yet. I try to go up to "Town" at least once a month -- and it always gives me a charge. I would live here if property prices weren't prohibitive.

4 favorite TV shows:

Gilmore Girls -- I discovered this one in its fifth season -- we were in Cape Cod for the summer and I randomly turned on the TV while I was making lunch. I was hooked in the first five minutes. Funnily enough, I never contributed to their ratings: I have never seen it "live" -- only on DVD. It is my mother/daughter show that I see with the girls. We labor under the delusion that Rory and Lorelai are our close personal friends, and we have never totally accepted that they are fictional characters and that Star's Hollow is just a cardboard set on a lot in California. I love every character on this show -- even Taylor Doose.

Northern Exposure -- I am already detecting a pattern here. Large cast of quirky characters living in a quirky town. If Cicely, Alaska had been a real town I probably would have moved there -- even though I hate the cold. Again, I love the characters; with a special mention for Chris, Ed and Marilyn. I thought the writing for this show was genius: it had so much wit and whimsy, and I loved the literary influences. This show was the highlight of my week the first year I was in grad school.

The Royle Family -- this is a UK show about a family of four that sit around watching TV and drinking "brews." Despite the fact that it depicts a Northern, working-class family -- of which I know nothing -- it is somehow universal, which has to be the mark of great writing. The characters do very little, but it is dead funny. This show plays to my inner slacker, I guess.

BBC Historical Costume Dramas -- any and all.

4 favorite radio programs:

Fresh Air with Terry Gross (NPR) -- I love Terry Gross's voice and calm, interviewing style. I have been introduced to all sorts of good things from exposure to this show.

The Writer's Almanac (NPR) every day, at 8:35, the five or so minute program comes on NPR. First, Garrison Keillor reads a poem -- and then he talks about interesting writers/other historical personage who were born on that day.

Desert Island Discs (BBC) -- famous (and/or interesting) person tells their life story through the structure of 7 favorite pieces of music. It's been running for decades, and I've been listening to it for at least one of those decades. It is fascinating stuff if you are fascinated by people.

Women's Hour (BBC) -- another long-running program; reminds me of the days of early motherhood. Always something interesting -- books; health; politics; human interest stories -- anything that affects women, really. The presenter is intelligent and calm, and you feel like the world is a better, safer place when you listen to her soothing voice.

4 favorite foods:

Popcorn -- made in a seasoned pot at home; has to be Orville's; lightly salted. My ultimate comfort food.

Baked potatoes -- my second ultimate comfort food. I ate one, with cheese and mushrooms, every single day when I was a sophomore in college.

Steak -- medium rare; from my dad's grill or any good restaurant.

Chips and Guacamole and Queso and Salsa -- the quickest way to go from starving to way too full. I cannot resist these.

4 places I'd rather be:

London
New York City
Sydney
Austin

4 people I want to tag:

Brave Sir Robin
Anne
Bakerina
The Accidental Housewife