Most of us know the strange nature of a Facebook friend - the kind of person who could be any one of several types of people: an actual friend, an acquaintance, an enemy you want to keep tabs on, someone you met once yet felt the need to "friend request," and the list goes on. And of course, none of these interactions happen in real time (God help us if they ever start to...yeesh), but rather days, weeks, months, or even years after you've met face-to-face (if you ever did at all).
Facebook notified me that on this day back in 2010, I became Facebook friends with a woman named Ellen, a woman who I had met many years earlier, when we weren't friends at all. You see, back in about 2005, I was a naive college student sharing a classroom with Ellen, who appeared to be more than twice my age. I wasn't particularly put off by her, but I certainly didn't want to be friends. I mean, that wouldn't look cool in front of my friends, right?
In hindsight, I probably should have taken a year off before going to college, but I'm glad I didn't. Flash forward to 2009. For the past 3 Summers, I had been covering the Pocono race weekends for Blue Ridge Communications TV-13. I looked forward to it every year. Twice a Summer, I'd get to be a NASCAR fan boy disguised as a cameraman. I'm still a closet fan boy to this day.
I also looked forward to it because of the personalities and the whole experience surrounding it. My co-workers and I would often joke that it was like "Groundhog Day," except under much happier circumstances. Twice a Summer, we'd reconnect with people we wouldn't normally see throughout the year. We'd get fed three (or more) meals a day just for being members of the press, we'd usually leave with a sun tan, and I'd leave with countless stories, like the time I nearly got kicked out of the race simply for standing in the wrong place (ask me about that some other time), or the time I met one of my grandfather's idols who had been broadcasting for over 60 years. What could be better? And at the end of each weekend, we'd all leave saying "See you at the next one."
On one hot June day in 2009, I was in the media center taking a mid-race breather when I saw a familiar face. I forget exactly how the exchange went, but I found myself talking with Ellen again. Her knowing nothing of my youthful indifference to her 4 years ago, it felt like I was talking to an old friend. I found out that she was working for the York Dispatch but now covering NASCAR full time. We caught up briefly and she had such a great spirit about her that I wished I could have stayed longer. Alas, there was a race going on, so I had to say "See you at the next one."
And I did. A month later in July. And then again the next year. I forget if she looked me up or if Facebook recommended us, but for whatever reason, we became "friends" on this day even if we already knew each other. I started to look forward to seeing Ellen as a regular part of every Pocono weekend, to catch up, to enjoy some racing and share more stories of course. My stories were never as interesting as hers, of course. I found out she had once written freelance for ESPN. She had met countless personalities and drivers throughout the sport and had many more experiences than she could possibly have told in our brief 5-minute encounters twice a Summer, but it didn't matter, because "I'll see you at the next one."
Until one day in 2011, when I didn't see her. Honestly, the weekends there were chock full of thousands of media folk and happenings that I soon dismissed it, thinking of it as an outlier. Everyone needs a day off, right? I think I even skipped a race that year. What I didn't know was that the next year, I was going to move away, and "Groundhog Day" would be no more. It was for the better, all things considered, but the point is that we lost touch. Life got a little hectic from there, and right around the time I was getting ready to move, I missed something else in the shuffle - Ellen had passed.
I'm not going to pretend that it destroyed me to find this out almost a year later, when I went to wish her a happy birthday, but it did shock me. She was only 55. We weren't the closest of friends, but for 5 minutes twice a year (for only 2 years, but it seemed much longer), we were close enough, and those moments are etched in my memory forever. She was one of those random special people who somehow walked in and out of my life for nearly 8 years and certainly will never be forgotten.
As I saw the notification today that we became "Facebook friends" in 2010, I checked her profile to see the history of our friendship. In 2016, I wrote "Happy birthday, old friend. Hope you're enjoying the races in heaven." I think this year, I'll add "See you at the next one."
