There’s a sweet and special thing about making new friends: no matter how far away they live, you never know when they’ll turn into old friends. A chance encounter or short conversation with someone uncovers common interests or shared experiences and pretty soon, a quarter century has gone by and you’re still sending each other Christmas cards (and now, chatting on Facebook).
I have a few good new-old faraway friends (“NOFFs”). I met one as a teenager in Tel Aviv in 1986 and had lunch with him and his family last year in Massachusetts. Another NOFF is the result of a few boozy days in Airlie Beach, Australia in 1991. I attended her wedding in Frankfurt in 1999 and we’re still in touch. We even share the same birthday.
There’s something else about NOFFs. Perhaps you don’t talk to them for years; we’re all busy, after all. But you never forget about them. Other people wash out of your brain over time; with NOFFs, there are songs or memories or landmarks that always bring them back to you. And it feels good, doesn’t it? Brings a little smile on what might be a grey day.
I’m waxing nostalgic because of a delightful old codger I met in Port of Spain, Trinidad in March. I wrote a bit about him already in the post “Trinidad, Where You Can Hug the Bus Driver,” and while I don’t even know his name, he said a few things during our conversation on the bus to spur this post.
It came up that I’m originally from British Columbia, Canada, and this gentleman revealed that he has a friend in New Westminster, B.C.
“Why, I was born in New Westminster,” I said.
“I haven’t heard from him for a few years now. He hasn’t replied to the last several letters I sent. I don’t know what happened to him, if he moved or got sick or maybe passed away.” Then, without missing a beat, he added, “His address is 127 – 8th Street.”
The man in the seat beside me was 74 years old, and his friend in New Westminster would now be 76—any number of events could have occurred to prevent the Canadian man from answering his counterpart’s correspondence. Had I been thinking, I would have asked for both of their names and made an information-seeking pit stop at his friend’s place the next time I was in the area (a subsequent attempt to get a message to him through the kind folks at the Public Transit Service Corporation hasn’t been fruitful). But what stuck with me the most about this exchange was that my Trini bus mate had memorized his friend’s address.
How long had these two gents been friends? I don’t know. How many years had passed since they’d seen each other? I’m guessing quite a few. How many letters had been written? Enough to qualify them as new-old faraway friends, because knowing your chum’s address off by heart is a sure sign that they’ve had an impact on your heart. It’s textbook NOFF. And even though my Trini bus mate may never find out what happened to his Canadian friend, his story served to remind me that frequently the people you meet on the road are the treasures you take home.
Do you agree? Do you have a few NOFFs of your own?
To my Trini friends, if you ever ride the bus from Port of Spain to Maracas or Blanchisseuse and encounter the dapper fellow I’m speaking of in this post, please pass on my warmest greetings. He’s a regular rider on that route, and in his feathered fedora and orange safety vest, highly recognizable. You can tell him that his new friend from Canada is thinking of him.
Debbie Young says
What a lovely post, Laura! I have plenty of OFFs, as I spent my teenage years in an international school in Frankfurt which numbered dozens of nationalities among its roll. On graduation day, more years ago than I care to think about, we knew that many of us would never see each other again, and yet years later we’ve hooked up again on the internet (mainly Facebook) and are chatting as if the intervening years had never happened. One thing did catch me out, though – the habit that some of them have of posting up their old high-school yearbook photos as their profile picture. More than once I’ve caught myself thinking “My goodness, the years have been kind to them” before I realised: that’s because they are 18 years old in this picture. I must make a shout out to one of your fellow Canadians here, Debbie Esau, who shared my high school French class. 30+ years on (ok, I confess!) we’ve discovered our lives have followed similar patterns, even though on separate continents. Gotta love this global village we live in!
Laura Zera says
Your high school experience sounds amazing and sort of similar to my kibbutz experience when I was 18 — for all the down sides to Facebook (oversharing, privacy leaks, etc.) it has been an amazing way to find people who’d been ‘lost.’ The global village is really just that now, with all of our digital aides. Totally love it. Thanks for your comment, Debbie!
Jeri says
I definitely have a few NOFF’s from my days spent working in Yellowstone and Everglades National Park. What’s even better is when I visited a park or two after no longer working seasonally, and actually met someone I had worked with in one of the two parks. That has happened in a long time, but some folks who work in the park system tend to be lifers, not to mention a vagabond sort of bunch.
Laura Zera says
Wow, given that those parks were probably several hundred, if not thousands, of miles apart, and sooooo spread out, that really is a cool meet up!
Jodi from Heal Now and Forever says
Most of my travels were from before FB, so it was harder to keep in touch, but many found me anyway. It’s so heartening! <3
Laura Zera says
I know what you mean — before FB AND before email makes it a real challenge to reconnect with people, but so sweet when you finally find them or vice versa.
Diane Hughes says
It’s amazing the things we remember about the people from our past. For me it’s phone numbers. Reading your post got my wheels turning, and I recalled a phone number that I believed to be that of my best friend from first grade. I googled it. It’s still her parents number in my hometown. 🙂
Laura Zera says
Ha! I love it. It just shows you how many crazy little compartments there are in our brains.