Old Haunts, Remembrances

You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place, I told him, like you'll not only miss the people you love, but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and place, because you'll never be this way again. —Azar Nafisi

And then a few months later, maybe a year, maybe ten, you realize how much farther you've come. You think about how the person you are now is different from the person you were then. There's probably a number of things you do still miss. And yet if you hadn't left, think of all the new people, new skills, new ideas, and so on you would not have gained. Was it worth it? Perhaps some moves, some changes turn out poorly. But at least you learn from them and move on again, leaving that phase without regret. Generally, though, we find that we move forward in some way. And though we do miss that old self, we know that if offered the choice, we would almost certainly not abandon the new self entirely for the old.

The things I find I miss most about life in Chestertown have very little to do with the person I was in college (a stressed, barely sleeping, sometimes almost crazy person); places and events go on without me. First Fridays. The graveyard between 11pm and 4am. Abandoned barns and houses in the middle of cornfields. An old-fashioned letterpress print shop. These are the four I miss the most. If I went back today or in five years, the joy of these things would remain. My new self (a much more relaxed and well-rested person) would still enjoy them, even though the context would be different.

Of course, I miss friends and things we did and good times we had, but we are all changing and those times are past, never to be re-lived, but in memories. It does no good to good to wish we could all hang out in the Lit. House again the way we did freshman year, for that time is long gone. I cherish the memories, but these are not what tug at my heart the most. Though I know that the graveyard and the abandoned places may change, too, and the content of First Friday changes every month, and the print shop may get a face-lift, these things are much more permanent than those fleeting moments with people.

Here are my favorite memories that took place in Chestertown, fleeting moments though they be:

Biking out Quaker Neck Landing Rd. with Insley to explore abandoned houses, and stopping by the Gillins' house on the way for some water. Kate Bursick calling me while we're in an old house to tell me I've won an environmental writing prize. Cutting my knee on a rusty nail while trying to get the perfect shot of the new green leaves growing in the window with late afternoon sunlight streaming in. (And all the other abandoned houses and barns we raided.)

Fixing dinner with Inklings while the snow fell thick outside the Literary House. Crowding around the table to eat together.

Laying on the gravestones under the Topping angel with friends to look for shooting stars during a meteor shower time.

Romping in the rain with Liz and Insley, barefoot and in dresses, from campus to downtown. Playing in the river, so swollen from rain it was filling the streets and parking lots.

Climbing the magnolia trees by myself late at night to ease the stress. Climbing a magnolia tree in a game of hide-and-seek and not being found.

Kayaking with folks from summer camp, up the marshy creek. Seeing an egret. Finding a feather from a great blue heron. And another time, abandoning the boats to swim in the Chester and then trying to make a duckling chain of boats to row back upstream and failing utterly at beating the current that way.

Photographing the sunrise on the Chester.

Mac and Will reading Frosty the Soviet Snowman.

Every First Friday. The ones by myself, the ones with just me and Liz, the ones with many friends.

Reading for Prof. Olsen's Foundations of Western Lit. II. I think it was Liz, Will, Mac, and me. We read the entire Odyssey out loud, with voices for characters. "Shut up, Eurylocus!" and Odysseus No-Pants. A few years later: Ian reading the Martian Chronicles aloud to me and Liz while we lay in the grass outside Middle.

The class with Dr. McColl when he told me after class that he had showed my Lorenzo Lotto paper/story to Peter Humphries (who had written an article I used, and is a well-known art historian) and the gentleman had quite enjoyed it.

Finding a really cool stick in the woods for Prof. Castro. Even though it ended up turning to dust when dried out properly.

Dancing with Brittany and Kelly at all the dances. The Renaissance dinner where there was proper wassail to drink after our dance performance.

Being in the back of the car when Kirstin and Insley had to make a midnight trip to Wal-Mart.

Sleeping in strange places, often with other people around and still awake. Not necessarily strange places. But places that weren't my bed. Mostly sofas. The sleepover on the last night of camp 2010. The time Amy's bed got dragged outside.

Watching Dr. Who with friends. At summer camp and at school.

Edith sitting next to me on the green couch. Langston sitting in my lap at my desk in my Fellowship Room.

Spending Saturday nights alone in the darkroom, making magic happen with light and chemicals, listening to A Prairie Home Companion and Thistle & Shamrock on the radio.

The Epic Snowball Fight. Allison giving a rousing speech on the porch. Our unrelenting efforts against the enemy. Our sneak attacks. Carrying the leader of the enemy back across Rt. 213 and telling them to stay over there where they belonged.

Presenting the poetry book I made at the Symposium for the Cater Society, which had funded the book. Making (printing/binding) the book in the first place.

Sun buns. The Farmer's Market. Spending way too much of my Saturday after these two things in one of the bookstores, often the Compleat, (also the library) reading children's books.

The weekend of Downrigging. Especially the one where my parents came and we checked out all the tall ships that were in the harbor and we watched ships firing blanks at each other. Fireworks.

The Redwall Feast. Cooking with Kat.

Silly dinnertimes.

Ultimate Frisbee.

Taking my Images & Text students to the print shop. Listening to Mike's stories and the kids' questions. Watching them make their own prints in the presses.