Shared history is important, is what I have been thinking about lately. There is something about thinking back on something that happened in your life, and having someone else say: yes, I remember that too. Why does that feel so good? Does it validate us to know that our memories are not just ours, that someone else saw what we saw? Does it help us to know that we aren’t just dreaming up what we think our lives have been?
I love my friend Alli for many reasons. She is one of the best people I have ever met, just like, on an objective Good Person scale. She’s kind, she is hilarious, she is a phenomenal friend. But on top of all of this, we have known each other since kindergarten. This means that either of us can pull out a memory, and the other person will already know it.
Remember the night when we all went skinny-dipping in Map’s pool? And A. got out of the pool and laughed so hard that she literally peed herself, right on the side of the pool? Ha ha, yes!
Remember when those three guy friends of ours crashed your birthday party in high school and stole your cake right out of your house? OMG, yes. Effers.
Remember in 5th grade how Carrie F. had this talent for drawing Garfield, and she drew doodles of Garfield everywhere, and it seemed so cool? Totally!
Remember when you got in the middle of a tough girl brawl that night outside the 7-11? No joke, that was nuts! Those girls wanted to kill someone.
Remember that time that dude who had a crush on you wrote you a filthy love note and your mom found it and read it? Holy shit, yes. Death by mortification.
Remember when we learned tinikling in 3rd grade gym class and you got chosen to demonstrate it for the parents at the ice cream social? Because I am a fucking superstar, obvs.
I know what song was playing on the radio when Alli made out with the guy who tried to give her the old “back of the head push” when we were teenagers. She knows that I almost had a serious wardrobe malfunction while dancing on stage in “Guys and Dolls” in 10th grade.
I started thinking about this last weekend when an old song came on the radio and we both went “oh my god, this SONG.” I was thinking about how not only do we share the general nostalgia of remembering that song, but we share the same context surrounding the song. There’s a good chance that we were milling around the same damn party where the song was initially playing and it seeped into our brains at the same time. It sort of blew my mind grapes a little bit, the more I thought about it.
If you’re my homie, you’re pretty much my homie for life. I will keep the friendship going, unless one of us turns into a dick or something. I know people that let their friends sort of drift in and out of their circle with each passing phase of their lives, and I guess that’s ok too. But for me, going through things with my pals there with me, helping me to see my life, is so important to me that I can’t imagine it any other way. And I think that feeling originated with Alli, and my friend Map too, starting way back when we were teensy little kids. The older I get, the more I cherish that.
So what was the song that prompted all of this? It was a PM Dawn song. I know, all of this because of Prince B. Nocturnal? Yes, totally. For whatever reason, it made both Alli and I feel how it felt to be young together, right in our guts. “Oh my god, this SONG.”