We don’t understand our own minds, really. Thoughts come unbidden, and often at the strangest times. And what triggers this is as mysterious as any of the other inner-workings of our oh-so rational brains.
See, I have a confession to make. My thoughts have lately turned towards an old friend of mine. Maybe because I don’t have too many anymore, I don’t know. But whatever the reason, the desire to reach out to the guy are real and they are strong.
This friend and I started hanging out in the fifth grade or and became as thick as thieves, concocting plans and schemes about all of the things we would do when we were adults and the world would be ours for the taking.
We were going to conquer the world, you see. But not with the power of armies at our command or anything as predictable as that.
No, we were more ambitious than that.
We were going to conquer the world through the power of music.
As I said, we were weird. Although we didn’t feel like it at the time.
The power of those vibrating air molecules we call music is pretty powerful, as are the connections that it can form. What is music, after all, l but another form of communication, another language?
We learned how to play and write music together, him on guitar and me on bass, through our mutual love of bands like Pink Floyd, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Metallica…a brew of 90s mainstream and classic rock.
Up where we lived in those pre-Internet days, you see, the more “hip” stuff never reached us.
Through this, through the bands we’d form (with a Spinal Tap-ian rotating cast of drummers), we became more than friends. We became partners-in-crime. We became brothers.
It sounds ridiculous and overblown–because it is–but it’s the kind of bond that only young boys can have, earnestness and ambition in those heady days before cynicism got its claws into us.
Into me, at least. My friend was a pretty happy teenager. Perpetually dating the prettiest girls in our school will do that to you, I suppose.
Anyway, as with most people from small, isolated rural areas, college shattered our coterie, which had grown to include about eight of us, a band of brothers who would never let anything come between them and the world.
Nothing but growing up.
I went away for school, and my friend went to the college in town. Eventually he ended up transferring to a school somewhere in Vermont or something, I don’t know. And while we’d reconnect during those first few summers, it was never quite the same as when we thought we’d conquer the world from our small, sleepy little New England town way up in the mountains, where nothing ever happened and no one really ever left.
Except for me, I guess.
The last time I saw my friend was in 2003. We worked at the same place one summer, and after that we just…stopped getting back to each other. Oh well.
Except now, 15 years later, I sincerely would like to get back in touch with him and I don’t know why.
Do you want to know what’s the weirdest thing about all of this? Even with all of our social media and oversharing of our lives, I can’t find a damn thing about his whereabouts.
Maybe God puts thoughts of people into our head like this, seemingly at random, so we can pray for them. This has been suggested to me. And if that’s the case, I’ve been praying for him, praying that everything’s alright and that no catastrophe has befallen him or his family.
But mostly…mostly, I’d just really like to talk to my friend again.
And check out my Instagram here.