Vangie

So my sister texted me last night: “I just found Vangie on Facebook.” Of course that’s a name from the past all right. Vangie from South Berwick Maine. My sister then sent me a screen shot picture of her with her two sisters. She looked good, they all did. Of course it sent me deep into my memory of South Berwick— Grammy’s house, the hammocks, the field, the bridge. They lived just down the road from Grammy’s house. I remember the first time I ever saw them, slowly walking up the road, passing the house, they started calling me names and I started calling them names but I was no match for the Wheeler girls. True. That’s how we met. Name calling insults. I was 10 or 12. 

In the ensuing years, I developed a huge crush… or was it puppy love, I don’t know, on Vangie. We dated for a little bit. It was awkward. I was awkward. She was so beautiful. But a spitfire too. A troublemaker. I loved that. We got older. Once me and Gary Trull had taken a bus to stay at Gram’s house for the weekend. This was probably 1984. We drank and smoked weed with Vangie most of the time, sneaking out at night. She was in her best flirt mode, seemingly connecting with Gary quite a bit, making me very jealous.  This was the last time I saw her in South Berwick.

Then in 1988 she got in touch with me. I forget how. But she was living in a trailer— or a small house, I forget that specific as well— living with her new baby, boyfriend and his brother. She invited me for a visit. So me and Slabs (Dave Babineau) took a drive. It was October. I remember the boyfriend being a little standoffish at first but as the beers were drunk he began to see me as friend rather than an enemy and we got along well— we all did. They loved Slabs and his racist humor. As it got late and everyone passed out, me and Vangie decided to thumb to Boston. We walked down the dark road, waiting for any vehicle. We were drunk. It was cold. After about an hour we called it a night and walked back to her place. That was it, the last time.

In 1992, when I was on the road in the US, I had heard she was a stripper in Las Vegas. I tried to find her. I went to a few strip clubs looking for her. I tried looking her up in the phone directory and calling her but… I never got in touch with her again. It’s funny. I based one of my characters in Fat Habits on her. So now of course, leave it to good old Facebook. I don’t know. Maybe, when I go back on Facebook I’ll look her up. Talk about how our lives have turned out, our adventures. Or maybe not. Prior to social media the past remained the past and usually for good reason. Enter MySpace and Facebook: and the past came hurtling through time like a drunken guest, flip flopping into the present. Anyway, time will tell.