The former “Voice of Portland (Maine)” turned 68 on Friday. We were guests at his birthday party here in Tucson. I didn’t know him when I lived in Maine but his wife performed in Abrams and Abramson, a comedy duo we enjoyed at the annual Maine Festival.
Onstage more than thirty years ago, she made us laugh. In person as a friend in Tucson, she still makes me laugh.
Watching other guests arrive at Friday’s party, one woman stood out.
“You look familiar,” I told her. “I live in Chicago,” she replied.
Someone mentioned Maine (it was probably me).
“Wait a minute,” she said. “I went to the University of Maine, then lived in Southwest Harbor for a few years with my roommate.”
What???? Another small world story!
Naturally we knew some of the same people. Where had we crossed paths?
“Oh yes,” she said, “I most likely went to your bookstore.”
Where does this come from, this inner knowledge of seeing someone before?
On this New Year’s Eve, I wonder about how much we all have in common: dreams, fears, aspirations. Especially my writer friends.
After attending the best writing workshop in Hawaii, committing to working on my memoir/non-memoir — no matter how long it takes — and being open to everyday life’s surprises, I’m ready for 2018. Happy New Year to all!
Addendum: The new recommended friend I met for a glass of wine last week, whose mother’s maiden name was Wilensky, may or may not be related. Her Wilensky ancestors settled as pioneers in North Dakota. So I have my doubts. But who knows?