Found memories

Coming back from Maui last month, Yumi picked up this memory card off the floor of the plane (she found it under her feet and just assumed it was hers). Several weeks later, upon closer inspection, it turns out we are in possession of somebody else’s vacation memories. We didn’t look through all the shots, just enough to determine whose pictures we’d ended up with. Nice couple. Looks like they had a good time.

I can’t say it wasn’t tempting, though — like coming across somebody else’s diary on the sidewalk. Which nearly did happen to me a year or so ago. I was just finishing my run when I notice a pile of stuff scattered about the base of a utility pole. There, spilling out of several plastic bags (one from the UH bookstore), is the flotsam of someone’s life: notes from Spanish 202, text books, cell phone user manual, handout about when not to make eye contact, case for compact earphones, clothing, CD soundtrack for RENT (empty), and a whole bunch of other things I don’t feel comfortable investigating further.

It was like stumbling upon a crime scene. A disappearance. The remnants of a sibling blowout. A literal throwing away of one’s past life. But no matter the cause, why had it ended up here on public display?

On top of the pile are a couple of matted, high school senior photos that put a face to the story lying before my feet. In one, a brown-skinned, Asian girl (your typical local girl here in Honolulu) is posing with a volleyball in front of a giant cut-out of a star. (This is just the type of school photo that Yumi says is so “American”.) The photo is dedicated “To Mike”, in gold ink. The other photograph shows the same girl on a beach; it’s more of a snapshot but is likewise secured and protected in a matted frame. (This one is made out to Alfie.)

She’s pretty, and I feel somewhat ashamed that I’m standing there, gazing at this smile obviously intended for other eyes. But I can’t just walk away and leave those pictures there on the ground, staring and smiling up at all passers-by. So I take them home. Exactly why, I don’t know. I’m not about to cart all that stuff off (though I’d feel better covering it up), but there’s an indignity to having all these personal items strewn about — especially when the circumstances of their origin are unknown to me. By removing the likeness of this girl I feel as though I am, in some small way, protecting her.

This reminds me of another picture I found not long after coming to Hawaii, when I was living on Kaiulani Ave. in Waikiki. I came across this picture of two girls one day and was compelled to pick it up off the ground. It had already been stepped on several times but wasn’t damaged too badly. In the photo, two girls — maybe 4 and 6? — stand together for a photo outside an apartment building. They don’t look like sisters, but the way the older one has her arm wrapped around the younger girl suggests a closeness. They squint into the sun, don’t appear to be in a cooperative mood, but each has colorful new hair wraps streaming down alongside and offset from her black hair, which I take to be the reason for the photo in the first place.

Call me weird, but I like looking at photos of people I don’t know, trying to figure out who they are and what their story is. Get me at a garage sale with a box of loose photographs and it may be some time before you pull me away.

Friendship: true or false?

I just woke up from a dream I was having about an old friend in Santa Cruz. Aside from all the usual weird stuff that happens in dreams, the two of us were just catching up and reminding each other of things long since passed. It was nice, you know? Then I woke up and remembered that we haven’t spoken for real in nearly four-and-a-half years.

First off, it should be known that I’m the one who closed the book on our friendship. We last met after I’d returned to Santa Cruz from Japan (in part) to consolidate all the crap I’d left behind at people’s houses three years prior. This had been our first reunion since a rather fractious rendezvous in Okinawa that had left our relationship severely strained — especially from Yumi’s perspective. (What’s troubling is, I’m not even sure if our friend is aware that anything ever happened.) Without going into detail, the fact is I didn’t stand up for Yumi as one very awkward and humiliating incident played itself out — my inability to act stemming from a sense of shame and the shock of our friend’s sudden condescension. For Yumi, that was the last straw. She has a low tolerance when it comes to getting stepped on, and, once-wronged, takes little issue in dismissing her offenders — even those close to her.

For me it’s not that simple (though sometimes I wish it were). I cannot so easily overlook the good that I know is inside someone — especially a friend — no matter how malicious an act they may commit. I attribute this to my own long-standing drive to please others, manifestations of which would include my seeming inability to say “no” or cutting people too much slack when my conscious tells me to speak out. My attitude in this regard has hardened somewhat over the past few years, but three or four years ago I still felt dogged by my ethical dilemma: exactly when is a friend no longer so?

Time does have a way of healing over old wounds, but while in Santa Cruz it wasn’t long before many of the same issues came up again that tightened the knot in my gut. I didn’t feel comfortable, yet I never brought up the issue of Okinawa. It just didn’t seem worth it at that point. After I got my guitar back from his place, I figured that was just sort of it.

What bothers me about this quiet parting is that it still, you know, bothers me. I’m pretty sure I had this dream as a follow-up to a podcast I was listening to about the meaning of friendship. In it, the speaker describes a bad falling out he’d just had with his best friend, who abruptly ended the relationship in a very hostile manner after a particularly harsh disagreement. Sad, really. In trying to justify the friend’s reaction, the speaker discussed a recent talk he’d heard on four Buddhist precepts of true love, which he transposed onto the concept of true friendship. Briefly, they are: 1) the capacity to make someone happy; 2) the ability to take someone’s pain away; 3) joy; and 4) freedom to let the other person be themselves. Based on what had happened, the speaker came to the conclusion that he was no longer able to satisfy these criteria with respect to his friend and, thus, the friendship died.

I can’t say the same applies to my situation, but some comparison can be made — especially with respect to number 4. During the “Okinawan incident”, Yumi and I were in a bit of a vulnerable position and were made to feel humiliated to some extent. Our friend took advantage of this power inequity — I think more as an expression of frustration more than anything else — and loused up our trip. Whether the intent was conscious or not is unknown, as we never confronted him about it. (See, there I go again making apologies for others…)

I guess what I’m left wondering now is, what should I do? This obviously stills weighs heavily upon my mind; it isn’t the first time it’s come up. I felt pretty bad for not inviting this guy to our wedding because he really should have been there, only it wasn’t the right time to think about making amends on such short notice. (And besides, Yumi was having none of it.) I guess what I need to do is first come to an understanding of what true friendship means to me —do I feel completely comfortable when I’m with someone? do I like the way I am with them? — and then decide whether or not to clear the air and give an explanation as to the sudden freeze in relations. I’m not looking to rekindle our friendship, but there’s really no sense in me carrying around this mental burden if I’m the only one having stress dreams. I just don’t know.