MY BOARDSERVER
 Subject: Mike Theimann
 
Author: Soos
Date:   3/14/2018 4:48 pm 
Timeline: Wednesday March 14, 2018.
I received this message from Peter Rillero last week:
"A micro, micro reunion... Caught up with my old friend Tom Tarpey in Florida yesterday. We were born on the same day, in Manhattan, and grew up in the Hudson Valley (although two different counties but of course the same high school). Our grandfathers were both New York City steam-fitters who knew each other. We also share a favorite concert, the Grateful Dead at Shea's Buffalo theater. (1979)."
I love the backstories, the tapestry of connections past and present that link a high school class together (or any group of friends, for that matter).
Peter's mention of the Grateful Dead concert reminds me of a connection that I once had, had lost, had re-established (at a Dead Concert, as a matter of fact) and now, lost again.
Backstory:
I spent a semester abroad during my junior year, at Ealing College in London. By far the best chapter of my entire college experience. I absolutely loved The City, Ye Olde London Towne (still do). I felt at home immediately. Must have been there in some old incarnation. I picked up a copy of London A-to-Zed (still in my possession, much tattered, 38 years later); I wore out my sneakers in about a week and had to buy a new pair (known as “trainers” over there).
I was 20 years old, and I was a kid in a candy store. London in 1980 was…off the hook. Concert going was a favorite pastime of mine back then, and there was no shortage of ridiculously cool shows available on the cheap: Jeff Beck at The Hammersmith Odeon; Bob Marley at The Crystal Palace; George Thorogood at The Old Vic; Bob Dylan at Earl's Court, John Cale, Taj Mahal, The Clash, Al Jarreau, blah-blah-blah (who among us doesn’t have a long list of classic concerts at their immediate disposal…).
Anyway, I was at a Dead Concert. I went three nights in a row, because…well…I could. I wasn’t a Deadhead, not by a long shot (I had never seen them before), but after the first show I knew something completely different was going on, so I just came back the next night, and then the next. I went to these things by myself because...well...that's just who I was (am).
Fun, fun, fun shows.
Unlike many American theaters/concerts, at this venue (The Rainbow) in London they removed the chairs from the floor so it became this giant dance…thing. You could bob, dance and weave your way right up to the very edge of the stage, grin stupidly at Phil and Bob and Jerry, and bob, dance and weave your way all the way to the back again. And that’s what I did, all night long, over and over and over. It was…wild.
So I’m doing this, it’s the first night, and I look up at one point, and looking straight back at me is Michael Theimann.
I haven’t seen him since third grade. We were in the same Cub Scout Troop (Pack? Herd? Flock?) together. I never saw him after that; I think he moved out of the school system. And I’m in London, a thousand miles from Peekskill, don’t know a soul, dancing like a fool, in the dark, to The Dead, and Michael and I recognize each other immediately. He says “Hi John.” And I say “Hi Mike.” He looks exactly the same as he did in third grade. I mean exactly. And I tell him so. And he says the same thing to me. And we dance on, and see each other the next night, and the next, and then again at various parties and pubs over the next six months (he’s doing the semester abroad thing too, at a different London college). And then we never see each other again.
And I bet he still looks exactly the same.
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 Mike Theimann    
Soos 3/14/2018 4:48 pm 
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