After Saturday and Sunday, I was kind of hoping Monday would just quietly creep into and quickly out of my life without so much as a blip on my radar.
I didn't get what I was hoping for. But, I was -- at seemingly the last minute -- reminded that there is always a silver lining.
I spent all day Monday praying the day's-over bell would ring and I could bust out the doors like Drew Carey on The Drew Carey Show and make swift my journey back home.
I had come to terms with the fact that I simply HAD to clean what remained from the party two nights before. The house was starting to wreak of stale beer, chips, and candy. It was gross. But the euphoria of the nights before still lingered heavy in my thoughts (though it also still weighed heavily on my energy).
Monday proved to be the longest work day I've ever had to face. Between Friday night and Sunday night I'd gotten just over a grand total of eight hours of sleep, did physically taxing labor for 19 hours, and partied for eight hours. Happy birthday Susan.
But it didn't end there. I drove home, with the quickness, on Monday. I stopped to visit Grandma because I knew she'd like that, when I walked in my front door my phone was ringing. It was Mom, Susan's car had broken down and it was looking like I'd need to head back to the garage next door to my office in a matter of minutes to meet her.
So I did that, I actually took the girls with me. I love those pooches. So we drove 45 minutes back to Pro, picked up Susan and drove back home. Yay. When we got home, Susan was running a fever. Double yay. She went to bed and I rounded up all the bottles, the beers, the cups and the candy wrappers. I did that. And I put the furniture back where it belongs and straightened up all the chaos.
When I was finally getting ready to crawl my tired ass into bed, which was about 8:55pm, the telephone rang a 'private caller' . . . I hate when telemarketers call later on in the evenings, it drives me batty. That's what I thought was, so I answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is Alison there."
My heart stopped for a moment. I knew the voice on the other line.
It was Jonesy.
This is the first time I've heard his voice since July 25th and the news he brought me that day was so tragic I didn't even remember hearing him speak. On this night, when I regained control of my now unbelievably energetic body, I found myself instantly immersed in a conversation that's literal objective was to catch up several months worth of change and growth between the two of us. It was an emotional conversation, and one I won't soon forget, but let's not linger on the mushy stuff.
We talked about traveling, relocated, and going back to college. Because of recent tragedy, he wouldn't be doing his fall hitchhiking trip (which included a leg from Montana to Florida with intentions of seeing me). I never made it to Montana to see him, not once.
I told him I'd been entertaining the idea of Ameri-Corps or teaching English abroad (both of which are very real possibilities). Then the ultimate question came:
Jonesy: "Got any cool plans this weekend?"
Me: "Well . . . I'm going to visit with my parents." (said with an obvious and audible smile on my face.)
Jonesy: "Where are they these days?"
Me: "haha, Upstate New York."
Jonesy: "WHAT! Hold on, I'm getting my atlas."
After a detailed discussion about which ferry my parents would take if they intended to cross Lake Champlain into Vermont, Jonesy said, "want to meet in Burlington for a day?"
It's not that I didn't expect this to ultimately be the result of this particular part of the conversation, but when the words actually flowed out of his mouth, I think I literally leapt off the couch. When he said the words "maybe I can get some friends to come along..." I was literally in Heaven.
I want to point out that to most people Jonesy probably seems at least slightly unpredictable, and . . . he is. But in a lot of cases, unpredictability is a bad thing. In Jonesy's case however, it's not. I can honestly say, he's gone to much greater lengths than most people in efforts to do as little as spend his lunch with me.
In 2005 my brother and I drove to Baltimore to experience the Baltimore Film Festival with our Dad. Baltimore is essentially an eight hour drive from the area of New Hampshire that has stolen my heart. However, by the determination of two friends, Jonesy drove to Baltimore and saw me for an afternoon. He brought along his best friend Isiac and they both were able to meet my brother and Dad (serious business!). That was three years ago; at that point, Jonesy and I were nothing more than fledgling friends.
The fact that Jonesy and Isiac (whom I hadn't met yet) drove for 8 hours and timed it according to when I would be able to see them should have sparked the notion that the relationships I was forming with the new people in my life were those of permanent value and that I would find myself cherishing them and making every effort to progress them as the years passed on.
The following year, for my 21st birthday, I flew myself to New Hampshire. We hardly had a fraction the relationship we have today and most of our friendship was formed thanks to Alexander Graham Bell and his beautiful invention. All that withstanding, Jonesy drove clear across the country -- through all four US time zones -- and made his best fleeting effort to time his drive according to my flight's arrival time. He didn't make it on time, but neither did anyone who happened to be located in the very state I flew into. After calling a person or two I thought would come through, the task of picking me up fell on the hands of the one person I now believe I've bonded with most. Becky.
Back to the present -- hearing Jonesy say maybe he could get some friends to come along was nothing less than heavenly because I do value those friendships so tremendously. I would have loved to have seen everyone from NH that day for lunch, but when I found it out it would be Jonesy, Becky and myself getting together for lunch I was more than content.
That's not intended to downplay the relationships I have with say Amanda, Seth, and Dan, but I do have stronger, closer relationships with Becky and Jonesy.
Man I miss New Hampshire. Looking at the pictures from the 80 Ounces party at the Pabst House made me envious of everyone there, even though we had the best party we've ever thrown that very same night -- 80s Night at the ONF House. (80 seems to be the number of the evening!)
I miss sitting in the 'Burban in empty parking lots talking to Seth about life beyond Gainesville. I miss that time he and I gave money to a homeless lady to buy herself food from Checkers and then felt our hearts melt when she offered to share it with us. I miss laughing and watching Dumb and Dumber in the living room of their ghetto house. I miss listening to Troy play the acoustic and rarely ever speak (although when he did, it was valuable in some way). I miss turning all of Seth's pot handles toward the stove rather than letting him let them hang over the edge. I miss the way Seth would always talk to me so eagerly about home and about life in Enfield. I miss feeling so incredibly loved and supported with the boys came to the hospital to see Susan.
I miss sitting in the smallest room imaginable and listening to them practice. How I still have the ability to hear is beyond me. I miss the daily grind. I miss seeing their faces any time I wanted. I miss seeing their faces when they bit into those sandwiches they made with my brother in our kitchen just before they moved back home. I miss the stories. I miss everything about them. All five of the boys. And the day they brought Becky and Amanda in my life was one of the most pivotal days I've ever had.
When Amanda, Becky, and Felipe moved to Gainesville for the summer, my life changed. I miss their custom kitchen flooring. I miss eating at Moe's and Sonny's and Chic-Fil-A. I miss Monday night karaoke and making completely ridiculous fools of ourselves. I miss getting in on some (what I consider to be) elite house parties with (people some consider to be) celebrities.
I miss that moment when I discovered a lonely keyboard on the dining room table of a stranger's house. And I miss the few fleeting moments that rapidly followed when I played heart and soul and some other random piano tunes (probably twinkle twinkle little star) with Buddy. I miss driving around with no aim and no real intention at hours of the morning at which no soul should be alive. I miss china ball and the Wall of Shame, Cranium, and breakfast beer. I miss the moment we realized R.M. was listed in the phone book and I miss the moment I realized he listed a sorority house as his home address. I miss driving all the way to the Cape only to have the shuttle launch postponed for the day. I miss the look on Becky's face when she realized I was holding a baby skunk in my hands.
I didn't intend for this to turn into a tribute to my friends from New Hampshire, but it kind of has. My life wouldn't be remotely what it is today if it weren't for the big dreams of some small town guys aspiring to make a name for themselves through their band. I miss everything that made my life the way it was then. I miss the boys the most. I miss Seth a lot more than I think even I realize.
There's a friend in my life now(he's actually been in my life much, MUCH longer than Seth has), every time I see him he exhibits some other Seth-like trait. One night I was riding shotgun in his car and he leaned over and started singing to me. His voice is just like I remember Seth's being. The similarities (all the way down to their facial hair) between the two are remarkable.
I have to quit writing because there's just so much more I have to say.
I didn't get what I was hoping for. But, I was -- at seemingly the last minute -- reminded that there is always a silver lining.
I spent all day Monday praying the day's-over bell would ring and I could bust out the doors like Drew Carey on The Drew Carey Show and make swift my journey back home.
I had come to terms with the fact that I simply HAD to clean what remained from the party two nights before. The house was starting to wreak of stale beer, chips, and candy. It was gross. But the euphoria of the nights before still lingered heavy in my thoughts (though it also still weighed heavily on my energy).
Monday proved to be the longest work day I've ever had to face. Between Friday night and Sunday night I'd gotten just over a grand total of eight hours of sleep, did physically taxing labor for 19 hours, and partied for eight hours. Happy birthday Susan.
But it didn't end there. I drove home, with the quickness, on Monday. I stopped to visit Grandma because I knew she'd like that, when I walked in my front door my phone was ringing. It was Mom, Susan's car had broken down and it was looking like I'd need to head back to the garage next door to my office in a matter of minutes to meet her.
So I did that, I actually took the girls with me. I love those pooches. So we drove 45 minutes back to Pro, picked up Susan and drove back home. Yay. When we got home, Susan was running a fever. Double yay. She went to bed and I rounded up all the bottles, the beers, the cups and the candy wrappers. I did that. And I put the furniture back where it belongs and straightened up all the chaos.
When I was finally getting ready to crawl my tired ass into bed, which was about 8:55pm, the telephone rang a 'private caller' . . . I hate when telemarketers call later on in the evenings, it drives me batty. That's what I thought was, so I answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is Alison there."
My heart stopped for a moment. I knew the voice on the other line.
It was Jonesy.
This is the first time I've heard his voice since July 25th and the news he brought me that day was so tragic I didn't even remember hearing him speak. On this night, when I regained control of my now unbelievably energetic body, I found myself instantly immersed in a conversation that's literal objective was to catch up several months worth of change and growth between the two of us. It was an emotional conversation, and one I won't soon forget, but let's not linger on the mushy stuff.
We talked about traveling, relocated, and going back to college. Because of recent tragedy, he wouldn't be doing his fall hitchhiking trip (which included a leg from Montana to Florida with intentions of seeing me). I never made it to Montana to see him, not once.
I told him I'd been entertaining the idea of Ameri-Corps or teaching English abroad (both of which are very real possibilities). Then the ultimate question came:
Jonesy: "Got any cool plans this weekend?"
Me: "Well . . . I'm going to visit with my parents." (said with an obvious and audible smile on my face.)
Jonesy: "Where are they these days?"
Me: "haha, Upstate New York."
Jonesy: "WHAT! Hold on, I'm getting my atlas."
After a detailed discussion about which ferry my parents would take if they intended to cross Lake Champlain into Vermont, Jonesy said, "want to meet in Burlington for a day?"
It's not that I didn't expect this to ultimately be the result of this particular part of the conversation, but when the words actually flowed out of his mouth, I think I literally leapt off the couch. When he said the words "maybe I can get some friends to come along..." I was literally in Heaven.
I want to point out that to most people Jonesy probably seems at least slightly unpredictable, and . . . he is. But in a lot of cases, unpredictability is a bad thing. In Jonesy's case however, it's not. I can honestly say, he's gone to much greater lengths than most people in efforts to do as little as spend his lunch with me.
In 2005 my brother and I drove to Baltimore to experience the Baltimore Film Festival with our Dad. Baltimore is essentially an eight hour drive from the area of New Hampshire that has stolen my heart. However, by the determination of two friends, Jonesy drove to Baltimore and saw me for an afternoon. He brought along his best friend Isiac and they both were able to meet my brother and Dad (serious business!). That was three years ago; at that point, Jonesy and I were nothing more than fledgling friends.
The fact that Jonesy and Isiac (whom I hadn't met yet) drove for 8 hours and timed it according to when I would be able to see them should have sparked the notion that the relationships I was forming with the new people in my life were those of permanent value and that I would find myself cherishing them and making every effort to progress them as the years passed on.
The following year, for my 21st birthday, I flew myself to New Hampshire. We hardly had a fraction the relationship we have today and most of our friendship was formed thanks to Alexander Graham Bell and his beautiful invention. All that withstanding, Jonesy drove clear across the country -- through all four US time zones -- and made his best fleeting effort to time his drive according to my flight's arrival time. He didn't make it on time, but neither did anyone who happened to be located in the very state I flew into. After calling a person or two I thought would come through, the task of picking me up fell on the hands of the one person I now believe I've bonded with most. Becky.
Back to the present -- hearing Jonesy say maybe he could get some friends to come along was nothing less than heavenly because I do value those friendships so tremendously. I would have loved to have seen everyone from NH that day for lunch, but when I found it out it would be Jonesy, Becky and myself getting together for lunch I was more than content.
That's not intended to downplay the relationships I have with say Amanda, Seth, and Dan, but I do have stronger, closer relationships with Becky and Jonesy.
Man I miss New Hampshire. Looking at the pictures from the 80 Ounces party at the Pabst House made me envious of everyone there, even though we had the best party we've ever thrown that very same night -- 80s Night at the ONF House. (80 seems to be the number of the evening!)
I miss sitting in the 'Burban in empty parking lots talking to Seth about life beyond Gainesville. I miss that time he and I gave money to a homeless lady to buy herself food from Checkers and then felt our hearts melt when she offered to share it with us. I miss laughing and watching Dumb and Dumber in the living room of their ghetto house. I miss listening to Troy play the acoustic and rarely ever speak (although when he did, it was valuable in some way). I miss turning all of Seth's pot handles toward the stove rather than letting him let them hang over the edge. I miss the way Seth would always talk to me so eagerly about home and about life in Enfield. I miss feeling so incredibly loved and supported with the boys came to the hospital to see Susan.
I miss sitting in the smallest room imaginable and listening to them practice. How I still have the ability to hear is beyond me. I miss the daily grind. I miss seeing their faces any time I wanted. I miss seeing their faces when they bit into those sandwiches they made with my brother in our kitchen just before they moved back home. I miss the stories. I miss everything about them. All five of the boys. And the day they brought Becky and Amanda in my life was one of the most pivotal days I've ever had.
When Amanda, Becky, and Felipe moved to Gainesville for the summer, my life changed. I miss their custom kitchen flooring. I miss eating at Moe's and Sonny's and Chic-Fil-A. I miss Monday night karaoke and making completely ridiculous fools of ourselves. I miss getting in on some (what I consider to be) elite house parties with (people some consider to be) celebrities.
I miss that moment when I discovered a lonely keyboard on the dining room table of a stranger's house. And I miss the few fleeting moments that rapidly followed when I played heart and soul and some other random piano tunes (probably twinkle twinkle little star) with Buddy. I miss driving around with no aim and no real intention at hours of the morning at which no soul should be alive. I miss china ball and the Wall of Shame, Cranium, and breakfast beer. I miss the moment we realized R.M. was listed in the phone book and I miss the moment I realized he listed a sorority house as his home address. I miss driving all the way to the Cape only to have the shuttle launch postponed for the day. I miss the look on Becky's face when she realized I was holding a baby skunk in my hands.
I didn't intend for this to turn into a tribute to my friends from New Hampshire, but it kind of has. My life wouldn't be remotely what it is today if it weren't for the big dreams of some small town guys aspiring to make a name for themselves through their band. I miss everything that made my life the way it was then. I miss the boys the most. I miss Seth a lot more than I think even I realize.
There's a friend in my life now(he's actually been in my life much, MUCH longer than Seth has), every time I see him he exhibits some other Seth-like trait. One night I was riding shotgun in his car and he leaned over and started singing to me. His voice is just like I remember Seth's being. The similarities (all the way down to their facial hair) between the two are remarkable.
I have to quit writing because there's just so much more I have to say.
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