Nostalgia...

Maybe it's the PMS and maybe it's the fact that I went to see Mama Mia the other night, but I've been feeling a bit weepy and nostalgic.  The story line for the movie/musical follows two sets of friends - the mom (Meryl Streep) and her two best friends from when she was younger (and much wilder) and her 20-yr-old daughter & 2 best friends.  As I was watching the movie, the wheels in my head were spinning in overdrive. 

First, I LOVE the music.  My mom used to have ABBA Gold on 8-track and I'm pretty sure we wore the thing out, as many times as we played it.  Yes, I said 8-track.  That particular album was the only thing that made cleaning house even moderately bearable.  I couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 years old, but I knew all the lyrics.  Suffice it to say I enjoyed the soundtrack to the movie immensely.  It took some doing, but I restrained myself from singing along with it until they rolled the credits.  By then, people were streaming out of the theater and I didn't have to worry about embarrassing my niece in front of as many people.  Not that I care, anyway - I mean, the girl has multi-colored hair, a brand new nose piercing and dresses like a cross between Pipi Longstocking and the Corpse Bride.  Don't get me wrong - I love my niece dearly - probably as much because she dresses Goth as for any other reason.  I appreciate the fact that she gives me an excuse to browse through Hot Topic.  I also appreciate the fact that, for me, she's easy to shop for because our tastes are similar.

The trip down memory lane didn't end with the music.  Oh no, that was only the beginning.  It set me on a path of thinking how lucky those women wer e to have friends like that to reminisce and make new memories with.  My head knows they were only characters in a movie, but I've also heard my neighbor talk about a couple of friends she had like that when she was growing up.  At first, I was feeling a bit sorry for myself because I realized I was missing something I never had.  I didn't have a whole lot of female friends in high school or in my first year at college.  My best friends throughout most of high school were gay guys.  No pressure, no competition, and I could keep a secret.  I covered for them with their parents and we had a blast.  I had plenty of peripheral friends - a good mix of both males and females to catch rides with to Youth Symphony, or hang out with on Fri/Sat nights when I wasn't working.  I had plenty of fun - just not those close sisterly bonds.  This held true until my senior year. 

I met a flute player at an honor band (I'm perfectly at peace with the fact that I was a band/orchestra geek).  He and I hit it off right away.  It was the beginning of a highly charged relationship that lasted on-and-off until we each started college - him in New York and me at UN-L.  We didn't survive the distance.  He moved on and I ended up broken-hearted - mostly because he didn't even have the decency to break up with me properly.  Part of me still wants to tell him off for that.  It's like everything else in life, though.  You can't just hang on to the good or the bad - and I have some pretty amazing memories from that time peried, too, so I've chosen to hang on to those.  God knows I made some mistakes back then, too, and I'd hate to think I'll only be judged for those!

OK, so right on the heels of all this tree hugging hippie crap - all the feeling sorry for myself, I realized I had my own version of the 3 musketeers, despite the fact that we've lost touch over the years.  Maybe we'll never end up getting back together to sing showtunes (they were guys, after all), but the memories are still there.  Anyway, right on the heels of this stroll through the cobweb cluttered passageways in my head, I received a little note from an old friend - a note that actually triggered a lot of these fond thoughts.  Life plays funny tricks on us sometimes, I think.