A Story Within a Story
The Set-Up
Several years ago, BC (before covid), I received a letter from an old high school classmate. It was not a letter intended to reconnect and catch-up on our lives since way back when. It was more of a form letter that was being sent out to all members of our class, informing everyone that one of our classmates was facing a very serious battle with early onset Alzheimer’s and had perhaps a year to live. Our classmate’s family was organizing a card shower for her upcoming birthday because she still had memories of her childhood and school days and thought this would be a way to connect with her. As many classmates as could be tracked down were invited to send a card or note and share a memory or two with her.
I was shocked that someone my age was dealing with such an awful thing. I remembered this person fondly, although I could not, in all honesty, say that we were close friends. We shared a few classes and maybe a few friendly words now and then, but we never had a real conversation as close friends do. After graduation, I ran into her once and we did the “Hey, how are you doing? Nice to see you. Take care.” thing, then I left the area for good and never saw her again.
Anyway, decades later, I get this letter and thought, yes, I would like to participate in this, but how does one respond in such a situation? I decided to write her a real letter, addressing her as if we were sitting on a park bench on a warm, spring afternoon, reminiscing about the old days. I wrote of a specific interaction we had back then, in hopes of triggering a fond memory for her. What follows is that letter.
(Note: This is a true story, however I have changed the names of those involved, except for mine. I am still Norm. Fans of Breaking Bad will find the fake names familiar. I have also removed specifics such as the number of years that have gone by, because, well, I felt like it.)
The Letter Containing the Story
Hi Holly
Long time, no see, huh? Rather than bore you with stories from my life over the past decades, I would like to tell you a story from our youth. I call it “The Holly White and the Super Bee Story”. Ready? Okay, here goes.
I’m not sure what year it was, but my best guess is it was the summer before Senior Year. I was driving a ’66 Chevy and Badger was with me. We left Stoneboro and headed out on the District Road toward the greater Fredonia metropolitan area. I don’t know where we were going; we could have been driving around aimlessly. We did that a lot, back in the day.
Anyway, we came up behind this red or orange Dodge Super Bee, and we realized that, hey, that’s Holly White! I’m sure we honked the horn, and hollered and waved out the window as we passed by. After we were in front of you, I had a brilliant idea. I told Badger to be ready to drive the car, because I was going to go out the window, wave for you to come up beside us, then I was going to jump through the passenger side window of your car! Apparently, Badger agreed that this was a brilliant idea because before I knew it, I had scrambled from behind the wheel, climbed out, and crouched in the open window, and he slid right on over into the driver’s seat.
Okay, so I’m crouching there in the open driver’s side window of my car, holding on with my right hand, and waving for you to drive that big Super Bee up beside us with my left hand. What a sight that must have been! All the while, we were still moving along on the bumpy, narrow District Road. But, you would not do it. I waved and waved, but you wouldn’t budge. So, I hollered to Badger that I was coming back in. And, that’s the end of “The Holly White and the Super Bee Story”. The ending is a bit anticlimactic, I guess. We went to wherever we were going, you went to wherever you were going, and we all went on with our lives.
Now, as I was thinking about this story, Holly, several things came to mind. Number one, I should thank you for saving me from myself. You had way more sense and good judgment than I did. In my defense, there were three factors at play: There was a cute girl, a hot car, and a teenage boy’s brain involved in this. How could I not do something really dumb? I know, I know, those reasons are kind of lame, but that’s the best I could come up with.
Another fascinating thing about this story is that I had the courage to be willing to attempt a daring, crazy leap from one moving car to another moving car, but I was too afraid to ask you or any of your friends to go out with me. I was not afraid of being horribly injured, or worse, in a stupid stunt, but I was very afraid of possible rejection and embarrassment. Isn’t that interesting? The fear of rejection was greater than the fear of grievous bodily injury. Intellectually, I know this is wrong-headed thinking, but I still behave like that sometimes.
All right, I have rambled on long enough. I just want to tell you that I heard that you are having health issues and I wanted to encourage you to stay strong and hang in there. And, I hope you know that there are many people in the world who wish you well. Even ones that you haven’t seen for many, many years.
All my best, to you and your family,
Norm
The Follow-Up
I sent the letter and I guess I hoped to hear from someone in Holly’s family, just to know that it got there. I watched the mail for weeks thinking that I might get a reply of some kind. Nothing came. Eventually, I stopped thinking about it. Life goes on, you know? I was not upset about not getting a response. I was fully aware that there were more important things going on with Holly and her family. I was glad I sent what I did, whether it made a difference or not.
Two and a half years later, I received a letter in the mail from Holly’s sister. In it, she said her letter was long overdue, but she wanted me to know how much my letter had meant to her as Holly’s sister and confidante, and how it had stayed with her ever since. Holly’s sister did not share whether Holly had any awareness of the letter or its contents. It was nice to find out that it meant something to someone besides me.
Coda
Obviously, it is impossible for this story to have a happy ending. Eight days before her birthday, Holly White died. It happened less than a month after I sent the letter.
That’s beautiful. What a lovely story.