Who do you miss?
Tell me if this sounds familiar.
Years ago I had an acquaintance that worked across the hall from me. He was older than me and we’d pass each other in the hallway and exchange the cordial greeting we all know so well. It turned out we had something in common. We smoked. One day he walks into my office and asks if he could “bum” a smoke from me. I gladly pulled my pack out of my shirt pocket and with index finger on the top of the box, flipped it open and a cigarette sprung out for him to take. He asked me if I wanted money for it. I said no. I then asked if he wanted company while smoking. He said yes and the rest became history.
His name was Domingo Zambrano.
We would go outside of the office area to smoke. Our meetings began to be as common as a cat in an alley. We would be found outside smoking for much longer than out allotted lunch time allowed. Who cared? We were discussing things that mattered and were important.
Isn’t it always like that?
We would talk about the banality of life. We would talk about women. We would talk about travel. We would listen to each other. We would argue with each other. We would laugh. We would even on occasion cry. Through it all we were always honest with each other and our opinions, even though sometimes at odds, never ruined what existed between us.
Our conversations would range from UFO talk to human nature to the afterlife and spirituality to literature. It was an education for me and an opportunity to Domingo to teach once more.
Domingo was old enough to be my father. He knew the role he played in my life. He understood it better than I. I took the relationship for granted and as is usually the case, it ended. After 9/11 I lost my job across the hall from Domingo. Not right away, but about a month after the attacks on New York I was laid off. He was lucky to have a job after 9/11. We promised to keep in touch and I promised to stop by.
I never stopped by. He never called.
I would occasionally find myself in that building and would look around for him. I would go through the old hallway and peek in his old window. A new person sat in his old place. I checked outside where we used to have our talks. New people had replaced us. Same scenario…Old guy and young guy.
Last time I saw Domingo was about 7 years ago.
The last time I stopped by the old building I ran into someone who knew Domingo.
“Have you seen Domingo? Is he still with the company?”
“No. He left several years ago. I think he moved.”
“To a different company?”
“No, I think he went back to Chile…”
“..oh..”
“…but someone said he had a heart attack and passed away. I am not sure.”
I didn’t know what to say. He was gone? Gone, gone. Not just gone.
*******************
I think of Domingo Zambrano often. I think of him when I see a woman I know he’d like. I think about him when I think of Rome. I think of him when someone mentions Chile and the Chilean wines…I think I miss him.
No more talks about the evolution of man. No more talks about love. No more talks about the “whys” in life. No more talk about luck and work and Rome or dreams about opening book stores in San Bernardo or Sardinia no more talking about planets and solar systems or trees and beaches. No more talking. About anything with Domingo.
I miss Domingo Zambrano.
He sounds like a good buddy. Hearing you reminisce brings back fond memories of my own buddy. My old friend, Mr. Cigarettes. Oh, you described it so well. Cigarettes- Uniting humanity one butt at a time.
There are a lot of things I no longer do, since I quit smoking… like hanging out on my back deck. Why? I mean, I love it… it’s in the middle of the woods with birds and squirrels and chipmunks, but no cigarette. Bah…
I hate to hear that about Domingo. I’m guilty of the same thing, constantly. I get focused and keep my head down a lot. I’m not sure how you are but I can share PART of my life totally with someone… like my cigarette break, my work-self, my party-self, my gym-self… but I just can’t bring myself to share my whole life. Other than my wife, that is.
I guess I keep things compartmentalized so I can always retreat to another compartment and slam the door if I need some distance. Then I end up with a lot of Domingos… A compartment falls away, or something, and with it goes the inhabitants.
I have a similar “old friend” I went to school with. Munyaradzi from Zimbabwe. We became good school buddies, and even did a few things outside of school. He actually invited me to go see Zimbabwe after we graduated. But… my thesis went wrong and my own shame got in the way of my “school buddies”. So, since Munya was just a school buddy… I lost contact. I spent 5 years of all-nighters and grueling projects getting to know him, and it only took just a couple of months of embarrassment from failing my thesis to totally lose touch with him. All I had was his cell phone number, which is no more.
Ughh…
bradley
July 2, 2009 at 6:45 am
I guess it is life. Our stories must have been on “repeat” since the beginning of time. It must occur in the darkest jungle to the brightest city. I learned NOT to take people for granted anymore. No one. Not even you!
That was partly what enticed me with Facebook and MySpace, but wishful thinking, it became child’s play. Ugh. That’s a different blog
Mr. Atheist
July 2, 2009 at 4:42 pm
Touching and poignant. Everyone needs a Domingo.
Angela
July 3, 2009 at 8:46 am
Thank you. Yes. Domingo’s come and go, we just need to enjoy the time we spend with them and learn as much as we can. It seems like human nature to move on and “think” they no longer serve a purpose in our lives. Maybe they don’t. I do know that I miss our conversations now more than ever because I have some life behind me now and more to discuss. I would be able to flesh out better now what back then I couldn’t. Maybe we would have eventually lost touch or gotten so angry at each other that the relationship would have ended. Do you have a Domingo? Care to share?
Mr. Atheist
July 3, 2009 at 8:52 am
Whew… facebook & myspace. I barely manage to make it out the door with my clothes ironed. Now I have to manage my online profile too?
I’m just glad people like you take the time to share for people like me to get to know. 
bradley
July 3, 2009 at 12:07 pm
Thanks. I really think the past is important. The past should serve as a reminder of lessons learned or unlearned. The past should be revisited. REVISITED is the key word for me. The past should not be a permanent dwelling. The past, to me anyway, is like a studio apartment I stop into every once in a while when I am in a certain neighborhood. It is a place that is not all that comfortable…no internet, no water and ice dispensing refrigerator…none of the “easy” stuff; it shouldn’t be.
My “past” apartment even boasts a rotary dial phone (a black one…looks government issued) that make speed dialing impossible (fun, but impossible especially if there is a 9 or a zero in the number).
I prefer to live in the present. Looking, always to the future.
Mr. Atheist
July 3, 2009 at 12:48 pm
Happy 4th, friend.
bradley
July 4, 2009 at 7:01 am
Same to you new old friend! Be safe and be sane. Do you have a blog?
Mr. Atheist
July 4, 2009 at 12:16 pm
A blog is on my “to-do list”.
I had one for a while that was half family, half rantings but I took it down in preparation for a new format I was going to do. I’ve gotten busy and haven’t quite finished it. So… I’m without for a time being. I’ll let you know when it’s up.
bradley
July 6, 2009 at 5:13 am
So I guess you miss “blogging.”
Mr. Atheist
July 6, 2009 at 2:43 pm
I miss my Dad. He’s 84, has “moderate to severe” Alzheimer’s, and calcified cardiac arteries and aorta.
He shuffles around, but he’s just not there anymore and I miss him.
backstripe
July 6, 2009 at 4:38 pm
I just like meeting new folks and seeing what people are passionate about. If it’s worth writing about, it’s worth my time.
People are great…it’s just their behavior that sucks so much sometimes.
bradley
July 6, 2009 at 4:39 pm
I have found it very usual around there. I mean…When I lived there it was “common practice” to see people passing by my own life. No one stop, no one cared particulary. In the end I had to adapt myself to this new way of “friendshipness” around there. I made up a Neologism about it : Disposable Friendship. Make sense, doesn’t it? But that’s because you guys live and die in a place where you weren’t born and raised (most of the time). so..no time for sentimentalisms and roots.
People in everyone’s life are like train passengers. you sit in your place during your journey while people come in and out the train while they do their journey. Someone sits close to you for a while then they leave, some sit and talk to you, some join your very same journey, and some of them just stare at you.
I’ve read once a story about life and people in everyone’s life. It was very…PPS presentation-like (so to speak). But I liked the methaphore anyway (am I a looser?)
I am enjoying my journey, but I miss a lot of travelmates as well….
Novat
July 8, 2009 at 2:52 am
Wow. I like that. Disposible Friendships. I guess it is what it is. Sounds like the society we’ve built for ourselves extends to those around us in way unimaginable. I try very hard to maintain my friendships for as long as I can. I know that most will not be on my “train” for long, so I try to enjoy it while I can. The train metaphor is truly excellent. Sometimes I feel like I am on the GRA (except it is a train) and I run into people and they run into me and then they get off and then I will eventually circle back and they get back on the train I am on. It is nice sometimes. Other times you remember that they didn’t get off the train so much as being PUSHED from the train by me. Without getting sentimental, I am glad we are on the train and enjoying the ride. For now.
Mr. Atheist
July 10, 2009 at 10:52 pm