Past feels like blurry watercolor, not like the history of real people

By David McElroy · March 22, 2019

I hadn’t seen the picture in a long time. When I saw it, there was a long moment when it felt like a picture of people I didn’t know.

But that was me. That was her. How long ago? Nine years? Maybe 11? I don’t remember. It might have been something from another life. Or something in a vision. Maybe a dream.

We were in Chicago — visiting her family — but my memory of it was blurry. Who exactly was she? Who had I been? I was left digging through my memories and trying to make sense of it.

I see a picture of two smiling and happy people, but what became of them? I haven’t talked with her for many years. She’s happily married to someone else now, but I know nothing of her life. How do two people go from smiling and happy in a picture to strangers who don’t even know each other?

I don’t know.

She was smart. She was funny. She was talented. And the picture reminds me just how beautiful she is.

I remember specific facts about her and about our relationship, but the emotional truth is more blurry. We were an unlikely pair to end up together, but somehow we did.

It was mostly because we wanted the same things in life. We both wanted a family. I was completely different from the men she had dated before. At first, she wasn’t sure she wanted someone like me, but she soon decided to take a big chance by moving here to pursue a future with me.

But how did I feel about her?

Even now, I can’t answer that question. There are some women who I’ve immediately and deeply loved. It was never that way with her. But I was soon comfortable enough with her that I missed her when we weren’t together. That’s the way I remember it, anyway.

Did I ever love her? That’s a tough question to answer. I cared about her. I could see a future with her. I think we looked right together. But my heart never needed her the way I’ve needed the few other women I’ve loved. At least, that’s the way it seems now. I just don’t know whether to trust my faded watercolor memories about that.

The last time I saw her, we had met for lunch. There was nothing unusual about the day. But I did something to make her angry. I don’t remember what it was. Honestly, I think she had just had enough of me refusing to make up my mind about what to do about her.

She suddenly stood up — calmly, not in anger — and said she was leaving. She said she needed some time alone.

We never spoke again. I didn’t take that well. I suspect we have very different interpretations of what happened. I’ll probably never know. And I don’t guess it matters.

But as I look at the photo of us together in Chicago at dinner with her family, I wonder how we got from this picture of smiling happiness to the ugly ending which left us strangers.

Since she hasn’t been in my life for so long, it would be easy for me to write a history in which she was a terrible person. (Don’t most people do that?) But I can’t tell you she was terrible. I can tell you things I think she mishandled badly. And I can tell you things I mishandled badly.

But no matter what I think or feel about that past, she was a good person with good intentions. I’m glad she’s happy today.

We all write our own narrative about the past. She would have her narrative. I have mine. But mostly, she seems like a character from a movie — a beautiful actress who was once sent to play the role of my fiancé.

The script got blurry after that. It wasn’t a happy ending. The picture faded in my memory. The feelings got blurry and confused. And then forgotten.

Just like the two main characters in “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” we’re always dealing with things which dim our memories and blur what we’ve felt. It’s a miracle that we’re able to hold onto anything from the past with confidence.

And on that note, I’m left thinking about something entirely unrelated to this faded watercolor memory. It occurs to me that when two people do remain powerfully attached — in spite of all reason and normal life circumstances — it’s something they ought to pay attention to. Because a relationship in which genuine love and attachment lasts is rare.

Beauty fades. Memories get blurry. But real love survives. Real love is hard to leave behind.

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Meet my new girlfriend. Her name is Meg. And she’s my little sweetheart. A couple of months ago, a neighbor across the street told me about a new stray in the neighborhood that she and I were both soon feeding. The cat had been very skittish about contact and she had a lot of scabs and parasites in her fur, but a trip to the vet last week revealed that she was otherwise in good health. The vet estimates her to be 1 to 2 years old. I named her for Meg Murry, the 13-year-old protagonist of Madeleine L’Engle’s wonderful book, “A Wrinkle in Time.” (Please read the book. Don’t watch the horrible movie.) Since we lost Lucy almost a year ago, it seems appropriate that we finally have a new little girl to join the household. She’s already captured my heart, but Alex, Oliver and Sam aren’t there quite yet.

There’s nothing socially acceptable that’s as dangerous as drinking alcohol. Most people grow up being told to “drink responsibly” — and all of us see people abusing this drug in one way or another — but the truth is that drinking alcohol is always a terrible risk. The alcohol in these drinks is toxic and the human liver has to work hard to filter the toxins out. What most people don’t realize is that alcohol is classified as a known carcinogen by the World Health Organization — because of the well-established connection between imbibing and various cancers. Many people have taken refuge behind the idea that light or moderate drinking might be safe, but a new study shows that drinking even one drink a day increases the risks of 10 types of cancer. When I was a teen-ager, I looked around and saw the negative effects that this behavior had on a lot of people and decided not to start drinking, so I’ve never even tried this poison. The evidence keeps piling up that I was lucky to have come to that conclusion early.

It hasn’t happened yet, but there’s a possibility that I might be taking in a fourth feline. A couple of months ago, a cat-loving neighbor asked whether I’d seen a “tuxedo cat” hanging out in the neighborhood. I hadn’t, but this guy eventually wandered past my house a few weeks later — and we haven’t been able to find evidence that he has a home. I’ve been giving him water and food for the last week and he finally let me pet him two nights ago. He’s purred for me two nights in a row and he let me take a low-quality selfie with him Thursday night. Tonight, though, he let me pick him up and bring him inside to look around. This went surprisingly well, as you can see from this photo. I don’t know whether he’ll be joining the family, but I’m certain that Alex, Oliver and Sam would vote no, at least until they get to know him. I’m trying to make certain he doesn’t have a home, but if he does join us, what do you suppose his name will be?

It turns out that the radical far left has been training “Antifa cats” to sabotage anything important to Donald Trump. Everything he did was perfect. Honest. It was all the cats’ fault. Arrest all the cats! This is the latest of my ridiculous satirical shorts. Please go watch it. Then “like” it and subscribe. Please. I’m begging you. (Too much?) Although a couple of the previous videos have had views in the hundreds, most have still been seen by fewer than 20 people. So I seem to be having trouble letting people know that page exists.

Here’s the latest of my ridiculous parody shorts. It crossed my mind Tuesday to wonder what a slick and fast-talking car dealer might do right now to try to turn the high price of gasoline to his advantage. So I conceived of a fat and lovable character who tried to sell cars that don’t use any fuel — and then I started wondering if it would be funnier if all the characters were felines. Designing the King Cashpaw character took about four hours, but the rest took only another four hours, so this was a relatively quick piece that virtually wrote itself. I know it’s almost impossible for these parody videos to find a larger audience, but at least they amuse me — and there are 19 of them on my YouTube page now. The first few were very limited, but they’re getting more complex.

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