Wednesday, February 23, 2011

a very small town

For years and years I had an unlisted phone number, in fact it wasn't even my phone, it was an unlisted phone number belonging to my housemate. 

When the internet came along I created a cutified user-name in pidgin German, which kept me pretty anonymous.

Ten years ago a Jr. High boyfriend  phone me out of the blue, having gone to a lot of trouble for many years to find me,but other than that I have managed to keep mostly to myself.

Turning forty and the novelty of Facebook broke me down a little, made me want to resurface and I find myself running into old acquaintances, lovers and friends left and right.

A few nights ago I noticed mention of my dear friend that committed suicide in 1985. 

It was like a punch to the gut to see his name on Facebook in 2011, so close to the anniversary of his death. 

I didn't recognize the post's name as anyone in our close circle of friends, so I became one of those creepy people, and sent her a personal message, asking if it really was the same person. 

I may have sounded a little bit like a nutter, which has never stopped me before.

The woman was kind enough to reply to my probing questions and yes, it does seem like she knew my L, and yes he was the sweetest person, etc. 

I have no idea what I think about all of this connection.  All of the oversharing I usually reserve for close friends, or people unfortunate enough to be related to me. 

I have no idea what to do with all the information I have, and how to quell the desire to gather more, that it seems to generate in me. 

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