Great Expections & Memory Lane...

I recently spent a weekend in Maine, and essentially did nothing for two whole days…sat out in the sun, reading at a sidewalk coffee shop; a cherished pastime for me.

Many of you know that my family moved from one small town in Maine to another when I was in high school. The two towns are next to each other and share the same high school, so the move was not terribly life altering.

However, having sent a good 15 years in Eliot, Maine, following the move, I have had very little opportunity to go there, despite passing through on my way to South Berwick.

It was during a conversation with my family over birthday dinner that I was reminded of all the places and things in Eliot I used to go to and partake of in my childhood: Dead Duck End, t-ball, etc…

During my two days of nothingness, I took the opportunity to take a drive through Eliot and revisit all the places of my youth. It is said so often that it has become a cliché, “you can never go back.”

The reality is there is both true and falsity in the saying. Driving and walking by the houses and places of my youth, I find myself transported to a different time of my life. Memories and feelings I have long since forgotten were awakened: Halloween parties, the “chair” story, tree tag, playing Jurassic Park, etc… It was bizarre. I had the happiest of childhoods, truly. And I could not help but wish I were living back in those simpler times.

I have always had wild ambitions – I remember taking a French class in elementary school after school, it must have been second- or third-grade, dreaming of the day I would go visit or perhaps even live in Paris. I recall watching “The Vicar of Dibley” knowing full well I would at some point live in London.

Many of the dreams and secrets I harbored in my youth have, in fact, come true. What is so strange is the visions I had in my head differ so much with the realities of life. My time in London was decidedly not what I had been daydreaming about in high school. I know this seems a base and silly observation, but what I am having trouble reconciling my London daydreams with my actual experiences.

I cannot decide if it is sad that I did not live in small thatched cottage drinking tea with fiancée Kate Beckinsale, or fabulous that I did live in Posh West London, became addicted to Strongbow and made out with a Jake Gyllenhaal lookalike.

Memory lane is a strange and wondrous place.

I am in the midst of re-reading Great Expectations – a truly brilliant, brilliant, brilliant piece of literature. I see so many echos of myself in the protagonist Pip. Pip comes from the humblest background, is raised by his brother-in-law, a black smith, and is content with his future as apprentice to the black smith until he starts visiting Miss Havisham and Estella.

Once he enters into the world of the aristocracy, his dreams and ambitions grow. He desperately wants to become a gentleman, accumulate wealth and intelligence to win over the haughty Estella.

I cannot help but remember a time when my dreams were relatively simple. Become the President of Strawbery Banke…have a darling 18-century home in Portsmouth…that has since been replaced with dreams of Oscar gold, a house in The Hamptons and being hounded by the Paparazzi.

And I also cannot help but wish, at times, that I still held tight to those simple dreams, sincerely and wholeheartedly – I think I would feel so much more fulfilled and content. We, with stars in our eyes, set ourselves up for a great deal of disappointment.

Well, I have given myself till 34 for the Oscar, so there is a bit more time for me. I need not declare myself a failure yet. These memories have made me long for a REUNION of sorts – I haven’t seen friends from high in AGEEEESS and would love to get together with you all in the near future. Soooo…FACEBOOK ME, and let’s get together.

Till next time, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste.