Missing the Marc (A.K.A. Oh Lord, what a cheesy title!)

A few weeks ago I wrote a little about reconnecting with old friends. It has become much easier to do that in the 21^st Century. MySpace, Facebook, and the like have opened up a new avenue where we can run across, or track down (if you’re the stalker type), “old acquaintances [that] be forgot.”

Each time I run across someone from my past I go through a little mental nostalgia. Sometimes it’s just a brief moment; sometimes it lasts a few days. The length depends on a few factors. How long did I know them? How well did I know them? How well did I like them? What sort of memorable experiences did we share? You get the picture.

Examples? OK.

I ran across my old college roommate (the only one I had besides my wife) on Facebook. We lived together for 2 quarters my freshman year at Auburn. When I saw the name a few things spun through my mind… his mom worked at my orthodontist’s office, he was a cheerleader at AU, the hot cheerleaders and potential cheerleaders that often came to our apartment. That probably about covers it. If I were to rate him on the memory scale (based on the amount of time I reminisced upon adding him as a friend) I’d give a 3. It would have been a 2, but the cheerleaders are worth at least 1 point.

A few weeks ago I ran across another old friend from high school. This one rated a 9 out of 10. I shouldn’t say he was a “high school” friend, because I’ve known Marc since about 2^nd or 3^rd grade. And I think he had a mustache the first time I met him. We both started school at Hibbett and moved to Forest Hills in 5^th grade. Marc lived in the neighborhood behind (and joined to) mine, and we rode the bus together from 5^th grade through 8^th. That time in itself produced numerous memories.

One of the first things we had in common was The Mark and Brian Show. Mark and Brian had the morning show on I-95, a radio station out of Birmingham that had a translator in Florence. Theirs was a radio show beyond explanation. They were then what all radio shows now strive to become. Marc and I spent the bus ride to school most every morning reviewing and critiquing that morning’s show (at least what we were able to hear of it before heading to school). After about 2 years Mark and Brian moved on to bigger and better things in LA. But we never forgot them. (More later.)

In Junior High I spent more than a few hours at Marc’s house thumbing through his dad’s collection of Playboy Magazines. (Should I admit that?) I think my bike knew it’s way there without me. Marc was there when another friend and I were arrested for shoplifting (wrongfully in my case) in Sears. I think I was supposed to spend the night at his house. Needless to say, I didn’t. In High School we ended up in the same drama class. This is probably where I got to know Marc best.

We spent 4 years in Drama together. Those years were spent talking about movies, making fun of anyone and everyone, and, well, theater. For one entire year, 10^th grade maybe, we kept a “Beat the Hell Out of List,” which we updated each day in class. I’m pretty sure we would end up in jail for that today.

During our early High School years Marc re-introduced me to Mark and Bryan. He made tapes of many of their shows in the 80s. I borrowed and listened to each one at least twice. We spent several hours reciting the various bits on a Theater trip that winter.

Marc and I shared the stage a few times. The most memorable time was singing together as elves in a Christmas play we did as juniors. It was quite possibly the worst song ever performed on stage that wasn’t sung by Glenn Close. We also served as co-Assistant Directors of Bradshaw High School’s production of Sweeney Todd. We spent most of the rehearsals mocking cast members, hiding from spittle in the orchestra pit, and avoiding any real work.

The greatest contribution Marc made to who I am now was introducing me to and keeping me updated on musical theater. Marc had a great collection of cast albums and he was pretty generous with them. Marc introduced me to shows that are still favorites today. The first time I heard Les Miserables was from a cassette I borrowed from Marc. The same goes for Jesus Christ Superstar. I now own and often listen to CDs of both shows (and many more).

Maybe I can spend the next few years not alienating and/or losing touch with my friends. At the same time, I hope to reconnect with a few more. As I do I hope to share memories of ages past. Who knows, I may let a few skeletons out of the closet.