Awkward Science

in the spring of 1989 this young chubby innocent lad had no way of knowing what would soon await him, hardening his outlook on life and the people around him



Not long ago, I commented how I enjoy an awkward silence. For me it can mean something unplanned and unusual can transform as chrysalis to connection. At its worst, participants might come out of it feeling like idiots but i've become used to that feeling. Out from the comfort zone, this moment may provide a sensation of life and the opportunity of the now. While we remember those that have become "arrrgh" memories, the interaction created from its unpredictable nature creates possibilities borne from that very awkward silence. Sure beats a generic "how are you"- but wait, you're walking away before I really tell you how I am"... Yes, at times it feels close to stumbling upon a mountain lion while taking a private pee in the woods. It's a way of looking at a glass half full. At least you got to pee. If every sentence here seems to contradict the previous, then it justifies what it took you guys 20 years to learn; your dad babbles.

Despite these gallant words, the truth is the glass is sometimes half empty. Half empty and getting drier by the second. If all things occur for a reason, then the reason still eludes me for the meaning behind the day of the most unpleasant of moments, (not involving someone hitting my face or bad tuna). I wish I could make the screen go fuzzy as I think back, way back, to an earlier day, a spring day in 1989.

I was managing a popular cafe that had an old soda fountain set beneath a large domed ceiling of glass to reflect a double rainbow. A good spring morning altered by the delivery of the day's mail, as clouds covering the color from my sky. A hand written letter addressed to me, writing unfamiliar, from New York. Fan mail, I joked. And yet, it was. A letter, from an ex-employee pledging her love and admiration, that we were meant to be "soul mates"... whaaaat? I need to backtrack. First this is an example how some events can occur completely without sense, and completely out of the blue. Secondly, this involves people i haven't spoken to in over a decade but if for some reason I do (see previous sentence), then this entry will quietly disappear.

She had worked at our store for less than four months, a summer before returning to New York for school. I did not consider this at the time but she was probably shy but she seemed contrary, unhappy, sarcastic and unwilling to participate. In my attempts to get her work to where we would have liked it to be, I felt frustrated and impatient. However for whatever unknown reason, this apparently was translated as the opposite in the space time continuum mixupuum opium? we existed in. I never could get much effort from her at work, certainly not enthusiasm but that was months ago, and I would not see her again.

So here's the odd part. She was the girlfriend of a good friend who also worked at another store.
He was someone who i became good friends with for our similar tastes in baseball and laughing at people. (as everyone knows now, today I laugh with people). We created the Hall of Legends, a silly way to pay tribute to past and present legendary ice cream scoopers. People didn't get the joke as we were shocked to have them lobby for themselves or others. One of the owners insisted we place his mother up on the wall (not so far fetched really).

I was stunned to read the letter- it took me minutes to recall who was writing it. It was inconceivable that there could be any misinterpretation of our relationship (I think I know how any friendly barista, usually female can find themselves in this undesired place). Feeling completely thrown, I looked up to see my friend, walking in to visit me. Now?? What were the chances- NOW??! He was in a great mood happy to hang out. I was completely ill at ease and ill altogether, hurriedly jamming the letter in to my back pocket. I poured him a cup of coffee, we sat, I tried to make small talk, acting as if I was acting, then excused myself to compose myself in back.

Minutes later, when I returned, ready to visit, deciding against disclosing the fiasco, my friend seemed agitated, as if he had had 20 cups of coffee in the few moments that I had left. His voice, brittle and fighting himself, stabbed these words:
"when you got up, you dropped a piece of paper. I was going to bring it to you but the writing looked familiar.."
My eyes lept over him, across the street. My tongue swung backwards hiding behind my tonsils. My heart sunk, crashing into my undergarments but that was not my heart. My breath, strangled. He continued,
"what the fuck is going on?!
How do you say that you have no idea? How do you say that you were 100% clueless? How do you say "I never liked her- I thought she was a zombie?" How do you say anything?

Awkward Silence. It stinks.


early picture of me, 1967. like the kid in Eight is Enough, pretty much the same shaggy haircut for the first 25 years of my life