I'm not sure what possessed me this morning to watch "About Alex." I'm only 1 hour into it, and already I'm tired.
Somebody obviously thought "The Big Chill" needed a millennial refresh. Or maybe we make a maudlin movie about college friends for every generation in their 30s? And I just thought it was a novel idea when The Big Chill came out, because that's how self-centered you are at 18. And I'm pretty sure there was a Gen-X version, but somehow it's escaping me right now.
I remember sitting in the big lecture hall in Textor, watching The Big Chill right around this time of year, during our sophomore year at college. There were 3 of us who had gone together, all of us connected in some way to Sally. Me, P, and D. But Sally wasn't there. She was at her Dad's wedding, I think.
At first, in the opening credits, I didn't understand what had happened. It wasn't until they all started showing up at the church for their friend, Alex's funeral. You see, in The Big Chill, their Alex was successful in his suicide attempt. Not like the Millennial Alex, who survived his. At least, 1 hour in, he has survived it. I haven't watched the rest to find out if he tries again. Don't spoil it for me, I may still watch it.
Anyway, the rest of the movie seems pretty similar so far... old tensions resurface, people start having sex, pot is smoked, alcohol drunk, people fight, etc. One big difference is they all argue about why he tried, including getting angry at him when he intimates that he may have attempted it to get their attention. There aren't as many players in the cast, and don't get me started on the script or the acting. I can't even.
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Sally pre-1983
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But back to 1984. We are watching the funeral scene, and I turn to P and D and I say "thank God Sally's just not here because she's at her Dad's wedding!" To which one of them replies, "Yeah! Right?" And then we watch the rest of the movie. At the time, I thought that somewhere in the distant future, we would all have some kind of college reunion weekend, and wondered what that would be revolving around. Something to do with Sally. I was sure of it.
I adored Sally, worshiped her even. She was the first person to ever convince me that I was beautiful and lovable. I met her at a frat party first semester freshman year. She "caught my eye" as I was walking over to the keg, smiling that smile with her sparkling eyes, stuck her hand out, and said "Sally Auchincloss."
The next time I saw her was at a Bob Weir concert. She was a few rows behind me and my "date" -- I thought we were friends, he thought it was a date, then he got removed from the concert for smoking pot, but handed me his stash and pipe right before they nabbed him. What can I say, life is not fair but sometimes it works in your favor. I digress. As my "date" and I were waiting for the concert to start, I looked around to see who was there, and she caught my eye again, and waved.
After that, we were constantly together. She lived in the next dorm and I spent every minute I could with her. She wrote me little notes about how great I was; she turned me on to Cat Stevens and James Taylor, but mostly Cat Stevens. We commiserated about bad dates and disappointing boyfriends, we celebrated each other's new infatuations. On Valentine's Day she bought me a single red rose. When we were both dating boys and seeing less of each other that spring, we took a Wednesday off, skipped all our classes, and spent the day walking around downtown. She was a Presbyterian and took me inside the church she was going to to show me the rose window.
Over the summer, we wrote each other letters about how much we missed each other and how great the other was as a person, about how we couldn't wait to see each other again. I sent her an outline of my hand with the caption "everyone needs a hand to hold onto." When I was reading her letters years later, it occurred to me that these letters were love letters.
That same summer I was also writing letters to my friend W, and I can tell you those letters, even though he and I were on-again-off-again, were so much less romantic than the letters with Sally.
(Seriously, I had no idea I was in love with her. Up to that point in my life, all relationships were painful, and I thought that to love someone was to be miserable. W was a good example of that. When we were "just friends" he was the kind of friend anyone would want - loyal, thoughtful, present; but when we "got romantic" he became emotionally unavailable. Plus, I thought I was straight, so I couldn't possible have feelings for a girl. I didn't give up that ghost until I was 22.)
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Me 1987
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My first day back on campus sophomore year, I saw her on the quad. We had this big running toward each other reunion, and a big hug. But I could feel the change in her energy. She was different. And I was scared, so I backed off, kept her at arm's length. Literally at that moment, but also the rest of that semester. We were still friends, good friends. We still hung out a LOT, but she lived across campus and ate in a different dining hall, and had new friends. And I felt awkward and uncomfortable whenever we were alone together. We never actually talked about it, but everything between us was different. Very soon afterward, she started a relationships with P and admitted to me that she was into girls. And yes, I was jealous, but I could not admit it to myself, let alone to her or P. Did I insinuate myself between them at every possible opportunity when we were hanging out together? Yes, yes I did. Did I have any insight into WHY I behaved that way? No, no I did not.
Then we went home for holiday break in December, and I never saw Sally again. She died in early January. And suddenly we were back on campus planning her memorial service. And our comments during the funeral scene in The Big Chill, and our complete lack of awareness about her health problems at that time, have haunted me ever since.
