Keeping In Touch

One of the best friends I ever had moved to a different neighbourhood when I was in grade 8. His name was Halûk and his family was from Turkey, and for that reason some people thought he was a bit odd. But we always had a good time hanging out, and he never did anything to make me doubt his friendship. The neighbourhood he moved to wasn’t far away. I could have easily rode my bike to his house any time and we could have maintained our friendship. But I made no effort to see him after he moved and I completely lost touch with him. I didn’t understand my behavior at the time, and I’ve always regretted it. I bumped into Halûk at a mall a few years later. He had on Mega Death t-shirt with a leather jacket and he seemed angry. I said hello. He just looked at me like he didn’t know who I was and that was it. He kept walking and I haven’t seen him since.

I got to thinking about this because I’ve heard about people getting in touch with old friends through Facebook. I thought of who I might want to get in touch with again. Halûk probably hates my guts, so he’s out. After that, it was slim pickings. There were two, maybe three people — and it’s very likely I won’t even see those guys again either. Because I suck at keeping it touch. That’s my big revelation of the day.

About Phillip

Phillip Cairns is a beekeeper in St. John's, Newfoundland, who writes about beekeeping at mudsongs.org.

5 Replies to “Keeping In Touch”

  1. That’s funny. I was just reading the comments to that 3-year-old post:

    PAUL COOPER: Tall, skinny, Icabod Craneish, worked at the Capitol grocery store packing groceries at the pick-up lane. I first met him after I was forced to join Scouts, where Jody had every honour badge you could get, whereas I usually managed to snag myself participation badges (you know, the ones you get for just showing up). Paul and his sister had exactly the same facial features, which, in my ignorance of genetics, I found kind of spooky. One night my friend Travis and I got drunk at Paul’s house and nearly destroyed the place. I remember walking into Paul’s bedroom and finding Travis trying to bench-press some weights, but he couldn’t lift it; when I came in, the bar was pressing against his neck, choking him. In my effort to save Travis, one side of the weights crashed and fell through the bedroom wall. We got the hell out of there. Paul was a good guy; I was an asshole, and that’s probably the last time I saw Paul, who today is probably a wealthy man, working as an engineer of some kind, living in a clean house with a garage and a couple kids.

  2. > working as an engineer of some kind, living in a clean house with a garage and a couple kids.

    He owns a company: Fineline Silkscreening, has 2 kids, a dog, and a huge garage. He lives near where we used to go fishing with dad, near where that scouts’ camp used to be (maybe still is) – between Lawrencetown and Cole Harbour. (I know where he lives – name left out to protect his privacy, in case he cared).

  3. Wow…good for paul…seriously…jesus..i think i want to be a fireman when i grow up….i just remember that paul had a motorbike..thought that was pretty cool….yeah….for some reason his parents let him have parties in the basement….

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