Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Preakness weekend
The Preakness was held this past weekend, and about 10 years ago this would have been cause for great celebration and festivities among me and my friends. From 1992 (?) to 1996 (?) or so (I think I went in 1993, 1994 and 1995), a group of 50 friends/acquaintances led by Jocelyn MacNeil, my old high school friend and housemate, would rent a big yellow school bus and head off for a day of drinking, sunshine and horse racing. Joc always did have a flair for logistics and organizing, especially events like this -- "Jocelyn has the clipboard" we used to say (Love Boat reference). Makes sense that now she's planning big events at some fancy NYC hotel.
This could easily veer into another post about my mid 20s indiscriminate partying -- nothing wrong with this kind of reminiscing, I suppose. Yes, the Preakness represents maybe two or three of my most innebriated days. What do you expect when you start the day at 7:30 a.m. by drinking a 40-oz malt liquor, put a keg on the bus, carry in coolers filled with 20+ cases of beer and spend the day in the Pimlico infield doing your best to keep your wits about you. And many wits were not kept.
I think what this post is about (wait! I figured it out!) is a tribute to the importance of that time in my life. As I've mentioned previously, I was often under-employed, financially derelict and possibly too committed to my fun-loving lifestyle during my tenure in Washington, D.C., and its suburbs. But look at what I came away with: a solidified friendship with Gene; a new close friend in Dave Mello; a relationship (now expired) that led me to move West and eventually led to a beautiful daughter in Ella and a move to California (not glad I had to move, but glad I'm here -- does that make sense?); plentiful memories with new and old friends; and a cool dog.
I read something online today that perhaps subconsciously spurred this post:
I used to believe that thinking and aching about one's personal past was the only way to pay homage to it: That the only proper way we legitimized and respected past events was to ponder them, relive them, and salute them in our minds with prolonged and vivid clarity. Otherwise, I thought, what was the use of fretting over and caring about present and future actions and events, if they were only going to be so easily dismissed and forgotten? However, in time, I learned that overdoing reminiscing and resisting change is, as Bono writes, "running to stand still." It chokes you and that which surrounds you. One can respect the values of the game while attempting to innovate.
I think I've been stuck in that "running to stand still" loop to some degree...not to the extent that my backward glances harm my ability to be present in my life today. But I sure do like to look back with longing and wistfulness...like if I don't, those experiences will be forgotten or their meaning will be lost?
It's cliche to say the past is the past, but don't things become cliche because they are so obviously true?
I am not who I was in 1995, nor is Gene or Dave or Jocelyn or Michelle or the other people who were in my life then. A decade later, I can say my time in DC was great, but (according SE Hinton -- is that who wrote The Outsiders etc.?) That Was Then, This is Now. I don't even talk to Jocelyn anymore, this woman who was once perhaps my closest friend. I think of Gene circa 1995...working his way up the corporate ladder at Carey Limousine...dancing his nights away and drawing feminine attention with ease...fun-loving, carefree, always amazed at the cool things that life put in front of him. And now he's 35, a new father...still the same guy in many ways, but facing new challenges that he never anticipated.
What's the point here? Perhaps it is the reminder to myself again to not dwell on or lionize my past -- here or in my brain -- at the expense of enjoying the present or imagining the future. What do I want for myself, for Nicola, for Lindsay, for Ella? What do I want for my friends now? Where am I going...isn't that so much more important than where I've been?
This could easily veer into another post about my mid 20s indiscriminate partying -- nothing wrong with this kind of reminiscing, I suppose. Yes, the Preakness represents maybe two or three of my most innebriated days. What do you expect when you start the day at 7:30 a.m. by drinking a 40-oz malt liquor, put a keg on the bus, carry in coolers filled with 20+ cases of beer and spend the day in the Pimlico infield doing your best to keep your wits about you. And many wits were not kept.
I think what this post is about (wait! I figured it out!) is a tribute to the importance of that time in my life. As I've mentioned previously, I was often under-employed, financially derelict and possibly too committed to my fun-loving lifestyle during my tenure in Washington, D.C., and its suburbs. But look at what I came away with: a solidified friendship with Gene; a new close friend in Dave Mello; a relationship (now expired) that led me to move West and eventually led to a beautiful daughter in Ella and a move to California (not glad I had to move, but glad I'm here -- does that make sense?); plentiful memories with new and old friends; and a cool dog.
I read something online today that perhaps subconsciously spurred this post:
I used to believe that thinking and aching about one's personal past was the only way to pay homage to it: That the only proper way we legitimized and respected past events was to ponder them, relive them, and salute them in our minds with prolonged and vivid clarity. Otherwise, I thought, what was the use of fretting over and caring about present and future actions and events, if they were only going to be so easily dismissed and forgotten? However, in time, I learned that overdoing reminiscing and resisting change is, as Bono writes, "running to stand still." It chokes you and that which surrounds you. One can respect the values of the game while attempting to innovate.
I think I've been stuck in that "running to stand still" loop to some degree...not to the extent that my backward glances harm my ability to be present in my life today. But I sure do like to look back with longing and wistfulness...like if I don't, those experiences will be forgotten or their meaning will be lost?
It's cliche to say the past is the past, but don't things become cliche because they are so obviously true?
I am not who I was in 1995, nor is Gene or Dave or Jocelyn or Michelle or the other people who were in my life then. A decade later, I can say my time in DC was great, but (according SE Hinton -- is that who wrote The Outsiders etc.?) That Was Then, This is Now. I don't even talk to Jocelyn anymore, this woman who was once perhaps my closest friend. I think of Gene circa 1995...working his way up the corporate ladder at Carey Limousine...dancing his nights away and drawing feminine attention with ease...fun-loving, carefree, always amazed at the cool things that life put in front of him. And now he's 35, a new father...still the same guy in many ways, but facing new challenges that he never anticipated.
What's the point here? Perhaps it is the reminder to myself again to not dwell on or lionize my past -- here or in my brain -- at the expense of enjoying the present or imagining the future. What do I want for myself, for Nicola, for Lindsay, for Ella? What do I want for my friends now? Where am I going...isn't that so much more important than where I've been?
// posted by Bill @ 11:13 AM 
