Back in Hoboken there was this “kid” Jovann. I refer to him as a “kid” because I first met him when he was a teenager hanging around the basketball court across from the dog park. By the time we moved he was in his twenties, but still a park regular.
Anyway, the kid loved dogs. And basketball.
It’s kind of crazy to me that I casually knew Jovann for almost ten years. For the first nine of them, we would speak for a few minutes when he stopped to pet my dog. During that time I never got the vibe that Jovann was a bad kid, partly because my dog is a punk and likes maybe ten people in the world. Jovann was one of them. That goes a long way with me.
I always felt a little bad for Jovann because the odds were definitely stacked against him. He clearly had some developmental issues. I imagine he never got the support and resources he needed to reach his potential. Most of the people who lived around us wouldn’t give him the time of day. And I think he was lonely – especially that last year we lived in Hoboken. It was during that year when Jovann took it upon himself to join either my husband or me for our evening dog walks.
During those walks he would ask questions about our dog. He would talk about the most recent girl he was texting with, even though he had never met her. He really wanted a girlfriend. He would tell me about the meals his grandmother prepared, and different family customs and traditions. He even invited the husband and me to his family’s house for dinner. He also insisted that we, “go to Florida because it’s so nice,” and kindly offered to watch our dog whenever we decided to book our trip.
I wouldn’t call Jovann a friend, per se. He was a neighborhood kid we were nice to and had a very specific, very compartmentalized relationship with. Even still, I remember feeling like I needed to tell Jovann we were moving, but not being sure how to break the news. Sitting him down and saying, “Hey, were’ moving to Texas,” seemed too formal. Instead, I casually dropped it into conversation one day when he mentioned he was moving to Florida. I don’t know if that was true or not, but it felt like the appropriate time to say, “That’s cool since I know you really like Florida. We’re also moving. To Texas.” We talked about how far Texas was from Hoboken for a few minutes before moving onto another topic of conversation…
We never said goodbye to Jovann.
No, “Good lucks!”
No well wishes.
I think about that sometimes and feel really terrible about it. If he’s still living in Hoboken, I wonder if he remembers that we moved, or if he thinks we just disappeared. Is he angry with us because we didn’t say goodbye? Or did that not register for him? Does he miss us? Or, more accurately, miss our dog? I wonder if he’s thought about us as many times as I’ve thought about him.
I hope things work out for him…that he finds a job. He would be great at a doggie daycare if he could do things like feed the dogs and play with them. I hope he gets a girlfriend someday…and that if he does they treat each other well because I’m not confident he’s had great examples set for him.
What the heck does any of this have to do with creating a little win?
Jovann stands out, but there were lots of people in Hoboken we had level one friendships with, and the sense of community those casual friendships offered was one of the things I loved most about living there. I was bound to run into someone I knew while heading to the bank, picking up something for dinner at King’s, or hanging out in the dog park. Social media makes it easy maintain those relationships, even from 1,900 miles away, but I’ve let all of them dissolve. So my “little win” for today is reconnecting. Even though it’s been months since my last communication with some of these level one friends, I’m going to get over myself and reach out to simply say, “Hi. I’m thinking about you and hope all is going well.”