Almost Heaven

Recently I visited Shepherdstown, West Virginia. That's where I went, but I really visited my friends who are still there. I have a lot of different feelings upon reflection of this visit. Anybody want to hear about my feelings? Great, let's do it.

A couple of my friends had very personal and very tragic experiences since the time I last lived there. It made me very sad to know that I wasn't there for them during that. I could have been there for them, even if I wasn't there, but I never knew because they never told me. That makes me sad as well. It is hard to maintain a real friendship when you just aren't around and this is something that I would like to work on in the future.

I paid a visit to my old abode, 336, with my good friend Stephen, after the bar had closed. The house is still unoccupied almost two years after I moved out. I do believe it needs at least that much time to recover. I found myself tearing up standing in my old backyard. What was I crying for? What was I mourning?

So much of my life (indeed, about 10% of it thus far) was spent living in that house. I think a lot of me is still wrapped up there. So many moments of joy, shame, heartbreak, frustration, elation; so many failures and achievements. Friendships forged and a couple dissolved. Many more close calls on both fronts. Also more frivolous things: Risk games, so much drunken dancing in the kitchen, late nights in the cellar, ah, beer pong. Many parties, big and small, planned and improvised, welcome and unwanted.

I think back now to the time when I was moving into the house, me and three friends and one (now former) girlfriend. It's such a cliche, but really, things were so much simpler then I suppose. Well, really, I just had a simpler outlook on a world that is just as complicated now as it was then. But I really bought into it, especially when we were moving in. I think all five of us were sure it would be a great success. It didn't take long for it to begin to fall apart. Well, no sense in dwelling on all that maudlin crap. Suffice to say two years later people I didn't know (but who had been invited) were shooting crack or heroine or some such in my backyard. They didn't have the decency to bring their own spoon or even take my spoon with them after they finished.

I see now why many people say college was the most fun they ever had. And I think that is what I was crying for. It simply can never be that way again. Indeed, I don't want it to be, not really. I see things differently now. I am stronger, smarter, more confident. And I generally have a lot less fun. I was crying for myself -- an old, outdated model of myself. The Ben Wallace of Shepherdstown is no more. He had a brief follow-up as the less popular Ben Wallace of Savannah, but now he is no more. Would I have done things differently at 336? Probably. Probably quite a few things. And yet here I am, right on the edge of where I want to be. I am better for having 336, although 336 is certainly not better for having had me.

Stephen really wants me to move in to his apartment in Shepherdstown but it can never be. I love all of my friends who are still there but I am not of that place any more. I still have many friends there and I will continue to visit as long as I do. One day they will all be gone -- I hope. And then what will my relationship be to that place? Will it be nostalgic or nauseous? It will be both for sure.