Yesterday, I woke, and while the girls were eating their breakfast I checked my email. In among all the spam there was one: the subject line was “Andrea” and the sender was “SC”. I hadn?t had coffee yet. Was.Not.Computing.
I started reading, and after about three paragraphs I had to do the scroll down and scroll back up thing just to get my bearings. Just so you get the picture, this is what I received:
–
Holy Smokes,
I am sitting in a hotel room in Calgary bored out of my tree and came
across your site on the web.
I just about fell off my chair when I came across your blog about
people you were looking for, and to be frank was flattered to see my
name on it!!!
HELLO ANDREA! How are you? Sounds like you are doing well, I always
knew that you would. Your daughter is beautiful. Reminds me of
someone I once knew.
I live in Georgetown with my wife Holly we are newly married (well one
year now)! Really happy. I have no kids but a bulldog who is almost
as good.
I am the junior partner in a small pharmaceutical company, we make
allergy vaccines!.(My Dad is a partner also) Cathy is a high school
teacher in Mississauga. Kinda of tricky where to start, how long has
it been 20 years probably?
Please drop me an email to say hi, I cant wait to hear from you. And
possibly keep in touch. One of my regrets in life thus far is the
people I have let drift out of my life.
Warmest Regards,
Steve Cecchetto
ps.. I laughed when I read about your crush. I always had a crush on
you but of course it wouldn’t have been cool at 12 to let you know
about it!! Boy oh boy, If I only knew then what I know now!
–
Isn’t that amazing?
This is the post he was referring to. In hindsight I feel a little bad that I wrote that his dad was so hairy. Sorry, but it is a childhood memory and I was just being honest!
When I first wrote it, of all the people I mentioned it was Steven I was most curious about. This – the boy who lived down the street – was a boy I adored between grades one and six.
Mostly I just remember how we’d beat the crap out of one another. I’d come home, sniffling, holding my arm/stomach/head, and ask my mom why it was so.
“Because he likes you Andrea!”
I really didn’t get it. If he liked me so much why would he hurt me?
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
THAT line again?? Sheesh.
In grade one or two I decided to share my true feelings. It was Valentine’s Day. Our desks were arranged in groups of four, two facing two. I picked a very cool Valentine for him out of my huge Valentine’s book, the kind where the cards had perforated edges and were just torn out. These were the kind of Valentine’s you don’t see anymore, where the images were more innocent and fun and the message a little more simple ? they weren?t about Barbie or Spiderman or Barney. This particular one had a photo of a cat, or a lemon, or both (?) and it read: ?Don?t be a sour puss, be my Valentine!?
What unfolded next has stayed with me like a dream. He was sitting directly across from me, and took one look and tore it up. And he didn?t just tear it up, he tore it up in as many pieces as he possibly could. My carefully chosen Valentine was decimated.
He probably doesn?t remember. It?s funny, the things that stick with you.
Despite this setback we remained friends. When we weren?t punching or chasing one another we played street hockey, hide and seek, or went swimming at the local pools. I grew on a quiet suburban street. There was a larger group of us kids living there. The parents just turned us out and we roamed and played until we were called in for dinner. My mom could call me in Czech, and I was teased about this. It shouldn?t have bothered me, but it did. Other times she?d signal the end of play by turning on the porch light.
It was a fairly idyllic existence when you?re that young (suburban living wasn?t quite so fun once I turned 15 or so, but that?s another story altogether) and I have fond memories of Steven and his sister Cathy as being part of that.
After grade six we went to different schools. Even though we still lived close by we lost track of one another. I remember he became a lifeguard, his sister, who I spent many hours playing with, worked at a local fruit and vegetable store, but that?s about all I knew. I moved to Ottawa after high school to study Journalism/English lit at university.
I have often wondered about Steven and Cathy and their family. They were such a huge part of my younger self, a part of so many memories. Since that first email he?s written a lengthier update that I won?t post here, but I am so glad that we?ve connected again.
Anyway, I wanted to share with you all a photo from the time of my puppy loviest – the height of it all – my grade four class photo. This is how I remember Steven, and this is how he probably remembers me. The photo is annotated. Most of you will have no trouble finding me. Steven?s there too. :)
