Spawn of Satan's First Kiss

It's weird how memories come back. I hear people talking about memories being triggered by a sight or a smell or song and coming rushing back. Yes, that can happen, but for the past week or so, I’ve been experiencing a trickle--an extremely frustrating, bordering on non-existent trickle. Oh that it would be a flood and be over with!

A couple weeks ago, I stumbled upon a hand-drawn rock band poster a musician named Scott gave me about three decades ago. He told me to hang on to it because when his band became famous, it would be worth a lot of money. I've kept it all these years in a scrapbook--not because I necessarily believed he would make it big and the poster would be valuable but rather because I promised, and because he held a special place in a young girl’s heart--the young girl who became me. When I found this poster, I wondered if Scott’s band ever achieved some level of success... then I realized that in this day and age of technology, there was no need to wonder.

Enter Google. I googled the name of Scott’s band, along with his name, the instrument he played and the state he lived in when I knew him... and low and behold... the top result was a youtube video--a different band, but Scott was the lead singer and keyboardist. Under the video, there was information about the concert venue that Scott now runs, complete with a link to the website.

Perusing the guidelines for submissions of bands interested in performing there, I discovered that Scott himself was the one in charge of it all. Hmmm, wouldn’t it be fun to “submit” his own decades’ old band for consideration? I thought how crazy it would be if someone sent me a long lost piece of my childhood or adolescent writing out of the blue to be “considered for production.” What a hoot that would be!

So, I snapped a picture of the poster, and sent it off with an email saying I thought this band would be perfect for his venue. I figured that given his stint with regional fame, and the accompanying groupies, he probably wouldn’t remember me, so I simply said that: “I don’t expect you to remember me--It’s been a L O N G time. I hope you are doing well and that you enjoy this poster.”

At that point in time, I was having trouble scaring up many memories of him myself--and he definitely held a more significant place in my life than I did in his:

Scott was the administrator of my first real kiss. We were 14-15 years old, and I know I didn’t want to make it to “Sweet Sixteen” without being kissed. I think he kissed me within a week of my fifteenth birthday. Other than that, I was drawing a blank on our short, shallow “relationship” (if you can even call it that.)

Right after our brief stint (or actually in the midst of it), I met the guy who became my high school sweetheart, so I basically let the thing with Scott fizzle out--which wasn’t hard to do since he lived in a different town and neither one of us had a driver’s license yet.

I didn’t expect to hear back much more than, “Thank you, I’ll add it to all the other sketches my former fans have sent me”--if even that. But a reply did come. Scott was amused by the poster and the “delusional dreams” of his adolescence that it exhibited, but that wasn’t all he had to say. After exchanging a few niceties about seeing that what I was doing (via google and imdb) was great, he went on to add something more personal:

“Well, I DO remember you sending me a letter calling me the spawn of Satan or something about burning in hell.”

I read those words in disbelief. I didn’t even remember writing to him at all, let alone ever saying anything so harsh.

I replied: “WHAT??? Not seriously? I'd like to see that, 'cuz I sure don't remember anything like it.” Recalling that I had basically dumped him for another guy, I went on to say that maybe I didn't treat him fairly and that I may not have been honest with him then because I was confused myself and wasn’t being totally honest with myself. “Did I really say horrible things in a letter, though???” I asked. His recollection sounded so out of character for me.

Since sending off that reply, I’ve been wracking my brain trying to remember. I'm just waking up to the fact that I may have actually hurt him... It really had never dawned on me that I was anything more to him than a fleeting fling, but now that one of my sons is just a year younger than Scott was--and just starting to take an interest in girls--I'm thinking how easy it would be for some girl to just crush him. Awww, Scott was some mommy's little boy, too... Did I really write something to him that he interpreted as meaning that I thought he was the spawn of Satan? And since I now have a faith that I didn’t have then, it’s really bugging me that whatever hurt I may have dealt out was tinged with any religious overtones that may have been interpreted as “Christianity.” I know that I wasn’t a Christian then, but he doesn’t know that.

As the day went by, since reading his note, my memory has been stirred a bit more, and another trickle has seeped out. Now, I do remember writing him a “break up” letter, but I don’t remember what I said. I remember deliberating over the wording, and yet the words I settled on now completely elude me. The memory is almost like I’m watching a silent movie... a fifteen-year-old girl, whom I barely recognize sits at the kitchen table... no, on the living room couch... no, on her bed... actually, I do see myself working on the letter long enough that I am carrying it from one location to another. I may have even spoken with my mother about it. I’m kind of wondering if Scott had called me about getting together and that was what prompted the letter. Is it strange for a memory like that to be so incredibly foggy?

I know many of you would say, “Drop it! Forget about it! You were just kids--it’s really no big deal.” I’m sure Scott is over it, and if I was really so bitchy, maybe I even gave him some material for an angry song or two. So, once again, why do I keep digging back into the past???

Well, there’s the curiosity factor that just comes with the territory of being a writer and wanting to understand motivations and character arcs.

But then, there’s also the parallel I’m seeing between Scott back then and my son who is practically the same age now as Scott was when he received the allegedly awful letter. I never thought of Scott as fragile and tender back then, but that is what I see when I look at my son of the same age. Still, that’s not enough reason to stew over what exactly I did say in that letter. That’s more reason to just have some heart-to-heart discussions with my son about girls and relationships.

The main reason I think I’m feeling tormented over this is the fact that I think I may know part of the reason for the fogginess, and that reason has more to do with my own character. What if I’m blocking it out of my memory because I know that I lied? As I look back, I really find it hard to believe that I came right out and told Scott about the other guy, and if I didn’t tell him that, then what reason did I give him for suddenly not wanting to go out with him? I really, truly hope I didn’t use a judgmental God argument--a hypocritical excuse.

When I consider how crippled I still feel by some of the rejection of my youth from even before I met Scott, and how I’m still working through issues rooted deep in my childhood, I cannot ignore the possibility that any religious jargon I may have used in my letter to Scott way back then could have poisoned his view of the Christian faith to this day.

This is not a blog entry with any neatly wrapped-up resolution. I hope that I will remember more if there is anything I can learn from it (and, if there’s anything that I can use in my writing to lend authenticity to young characters and situations, and thus help another generation). And I pray that if there was hurt that turned to bitterness or that is in anyway still affecting Scott, that this silly little encounter over the poster now would bring clarity (especially on a spiritual level) that nothing I said then should be taken as representative of Christianity.

This story may be out of order--a strange place to start, but it is another chapter in my memoirs. If my memory awakens, maybe I’ll be able to complete this chapter of early adolescent lit.

I don’t think I’ve covered any of my history prior to college in this blog yet, have I? My high school sweetheart really was sweet... perhaps a chapter on him would lighten the sometimes-heavy mood around here. If I can’t remember more about Scott, do you want to know about the guy who replaced him (and was shy enough and respectful enough that he kept me out of a heap of trouble for the remainder of my high school years)? This I do know: If I had stayed with Scott, I probably would have ended up pregnant before I was out of high school and I could be in a situation even worse than my struggles with Todd.