Lately I was googling for names of various people I used to know and long ago lost touch with. One was an old beau who eventually went into public service and so there were articles, videos and programs online that I could read, watch and/or listen to. In a radio interview he spoke about his personal history leading up to his decision to enter politics, and mentioned a particular place where we lived together for about a year. It was pleasing to hear his voice, talking and laughing after 37 years; to know he has had a good life, raised a family and is doing well.
I poked around Google satellite imaging after that and could look at the place he now lives, and was pleased to see it is his late parents’ home, where we used to go for Sunday suppers with a large extended family and for baths, since our one-room log cabin didn’t have running water. I could zoom in, go down the street, and see other familiar buildings in the town as they are now. It was bittersweet, bringing back many fond memories and surges of affection.
I got to thinking about the long line of past loves in my life, and noted that I had had crushes on boys (and later, men) since as early as three or four years of age. That’s as far back as I remember, although it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that even as a baby I was bigtime smitten with, first, my dad, both grandfathers, my uncles, and all our male family friends!