They disappear. People, treasured memories, cherished objects. From car keys to one-time friends, to collections, to everyday items, things disappear.
Over a lifetime, a few chosen objects or people irritate the mind. Where did they go? We all have these mysteries. For me it's a few folks I knew in college, my baseball cards, and accidental displacements.
I had a robust collection of 1950s baseball cards between the ages of 8 and 12. Lots from the glory years of 1951-1956. They were in a couple of shoe boxes, the thin ones that originally held US Keds. After I turned about 14, they went from my bedroom closet to the garage. At least that's what I tell myself. By the time I left my childhood home for good and returned to clean it out after my father's death, they were nowhere to be seen. Nobody in my family would have thrown them out. Nevertheless, like so many before me, they disappeared.
When I see 1955 Mickey Mantle, or Willie Mays cards online, and what they sell for now, it's a gut punch. Those were the glory years, I played Little League baseball, I spent every nickel and dime I came by on those cards, and I traded for some.
There was a kid I knew back in the 5th grade. He lived a few blocks from me in an older house on a street that wasn't completely paved. I recall a wishing well in his front yard and a C-shaped driveway. Kids called him Chuckie. He wanted a few of the black and white glossies I used to get from a NY uncle who worked for King Features Syndicate. These were photos that never made the newspapers and would be thrown out. He'd scoop up a handful and every so often I'd get a large brown envelope in the mail. Uncle Murray would always say, these are for you, but please don't sell them. He never said anything about trading them. traded three photos of Yankee baseball action (two of which I had doubles) for about 6 1951 baseball cards. In the cards I got was Satchel Paige when he was briefly with the St. Louis Browns, and a couple of other players. Still those 1951 Tops cards are worth much more today, but like all the other cards I had...disappeared.
After the internet captured our fancy, I found I could see those colorful cards buy simply using Google Images. Whoa! did a flood of memories unfold when I saw 60 years later the likes of Spook Jacobs, Ferris Fain, and Sandy Koufax from the 1954 editions.
Too bad the Internet can't always bring back people or places as they were. The house I grew up in still stands, but I wouldn't recognize it or be able to make my way safely around it in the dark. The back yard is most likely full of concrete and the elm tree my grandfather planted gone as well as Orange, Lemon, plum, and apricot trees I once harvested. The wooden fence and my mother's clothes line will always exist in my mind, but all are gone now. In 1969, when I left that home, I could tell you who lived in every house on the street, nobody today. That's just the way of things. As Willy Loman, in Arthur Miller's prize winning play "Death of a Salesman" moaned:
“Figure it out. Work a lifetime to pay off a house. You finally own it, and there's nobody to live in it.”
Those losses are to be expected, what about people who have crossed your path and seem impossible to forget? Four folks I knew in college disappeared when I graduated. If I hadn't gone to such a large school like UCLA, that might not have happened. Marv was my age and dealing with the draft in the same way as me. We often spoke about filing conscientious objector status and ultimately did. After a good high school friend of mine was killed in Vietnam, it became easier to make that decision. I hope Marv is still around and fondly recalls those years, especially for the music and counter culture. Another Bruce was a person I could have remained friends with longer with if circumstances hadn't interfered. Last I heard he was in Chicago. Bruce G (my initials too) served as a spirit guide for me helping me navigate the changing values of the 1960s. He took say more risks than I did, but I could always pick his brain and know what to expect. A cheerleader, a deep thinker, a guy who wanted to help people, not kill them, he was the kind of friend I needed in those heady yet lonely times.
There were two women I knew back then that drifted into the ether too. Judy liked to quote Shakespeare, knew a lot of crash pads and passed me my first joint. I recall a period on my life when I was drifting amid a pile of moral questions. She was there for me a few times and I never got to thank her properly. We had the kind of friendship that was just that. No real sexual tension, just good friends.
With Susan it was different. She was 4 years younger than me, a Freshman I met during my Senior year at a party. I really liked her, but we both knew the timing wasn't right. I've often wondered if she ever achieved her career goals and if she ever found, "the one." One of the few genuinely nice people I met on that large campus.
Maybe they haven't disappeared if I recall them so vividly after all these years? There is some merit in holding on to the images and emotions we retain. Retained probably for a reason.
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