Someplace

It starts with a slight nod. Two men, passing each other on the street—both of a similar build, similar height, around the same age—accidentally make eye contact. One man gives one of those automatic, nods you give to strangers to be polite. The other mumbles a hello. They both continue on their way.

And then, simultaneously, they halt. A whiff of familiarity has been detected. The man wearing the hat turns to look back and sees the man with glasses turning to look back at him. Two weird half-smiles form on two puzzled faces. Neither man has been in this neighborhood before. In fact, both are visiting this city from out of town. They walk towards each other.

“I’m sorry,” says the man with the beard. “Do I know you from someplace?”

The other man pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “You look very familiar,” he admits. “I think you do.”

“Did you go to Parkside High?” the man with glasses asks the man with the beard.

“Yeah!” the other man’s face breaks into a big smile.

“Class of ’03!” the man with glasses exclaims, pointing at himself.

“Class of ’05!” answers the bearded man.

Spontaneously, the men high five.

The man with the glasses puts his feet together and does a little cheer. “Swing it left! Swing it right! The Beavers are gonna win tonight!”

“Wait, what?” A crease forms just above his glasses

The man with the beard does a gesture with his arms that suggests two large teeth. “The Parkside High School Beavers!”

He sees the crease grow deeper—a look of incomprehension. “Our mascot? The Beavers?”

“We were the Falabellas.”

“Parkside High School? In Bowerville, Oregon?”

“Parkside High School in Cobblers Grove, Vermont,” admits the man with glasses.

“Shoot!” they exclaim together.

*****

When the two men first met, it was midmorning, now the sun shines from high above their heads. Two jackets are folded across two arms. Two ties are loosened and askew. Each man paces back and forth, hand on chin, eyes looking upward as if the answer to the other’s identity might be located somewhere in the blaze of noon light. Glasses man snaps his fingers.

“Did you ever live in Chicago?”

“Yes! I lived there for about a year after my divorce!”

“That’s great! What neighborhood were you in?”

“Lakeview.”

“This is amazing! That’s where I lived too!”

“3508 North Pinegrove?”

“I lived at 3508 North Pinegrove!”

“Apartment 303!”

“I was in apartment 305!”

“Wow this is quite a coincidence!’

“I moved in November of 2018.”

“I moved out September of 2012.”

“So there’s no way that we know each other from Chicago?”

“It’s impossible!”

“Shoot!” they exclaim in unison.

*****

Now the sun hangs low in the sky. A crowd of curious onlookers has formed a semicircle around the two men. Jackets were abandoned on the sidewalk hours ago. Ties were removed. The man with glasses continually removes them to wipe the lenses with his untucked shirt. The bearded man tugs at his beard unconsciously. Each man is attempting to relive every significant and mundane moment of his life in hopes the other will make a cameo.

“I know this man from somewhere!” screams the man with glasses towards the possibly deaf heavens.

“I have seen this guy before,” the other man shouts at the crowd.

A thought strikes.

“Did you ever work at Disney…”

“Land?”

“World!”

“Did you ever run with the bulls in Pamplona?”

“Yes! 2010!”

“2013!”

“Were you ever trapped on a Ferris wheel for two hours?”

“Yeah! In Denver!”

“It happened to me in Saint Louis!”

“Shoot!”

“Shoot!”

*****

It is dawn. The two men, exhausted, barely prop themselves up on the sidewalk. Each stares at the other, hoping to unravel the enigma hidden by or woven into their visage. The crowd has grown twofold, fully encircling the two. The man with glasses scratches his unshaven chin. The man with the beard rubs his bleary eyes.

Their minds play tricks. The man with the beard replays the memory of his wife bringing him divorce papers, the glasses man as her avatar. His childhood-self rides bicycles with him. They dance at the prom. Every acquaintance, colleague, or loved one in his life has now taken the form of the man with the glasses.

Something similar happens to the man with glasses. He remembers himself sobbing in a hospital room, clutching the man with the beard’s hand, whispering, “Goodbye mom.” His life replays itself, only now he sees the other man as every living thing he has ever loved. Then it replays again, only this time he sees the man with the beard as himself. The man stumbles his way through his childhood and his teens. The man makes all of his own dumb mistakes, endures all of his embarrassments. While watching this other man commit the failures and occasional triumphs of the life he himself lived, the man with the glasses is able to do something he never thought of. He sees himself as a fallible human who is trying his best. He is able to forgive himself. He is able to forgive others.

The man with the glasses begins to cry. He looks up at the other man. The man with the beard gazes back at him, seeing in his face, life’s disappointments and sorrows but also hopes and dream. Both are crying now. The men embrace. Even if their chapped lips were capable of speech, neither could find words to express what is happening. The weight of the human condition has been lifted. There is confusion, there is regret, but primarily there is a feeling of overwhelming joy.

This feeling rolls like a wave over the crowd surrounding them. The pain of everyday life washes away, taking cynicism with it. Everyone feels good to be alive. Some embrace. Most cry. Some break into song.

*****

It is once again midmorning. A man with a hat turns a corner and is surprised to see an eclectic group gathered on the sidewalk. Whatever event they were here for seems to have ended. Now everyone appears to be milling around, none too eager to move along. As he continues, two men stand out to him. A man with a beard and a man with glasses walk slowly by, arms around each other’s shoulders like old chums.

A beat later the man with the hat turns around to address the two. “Excuse me!” He asks, “Do I know you two from someplace?”