Remembering Jasper…

When I was 17, I had a crush on this boy. His name was Ben, aka Jasper. We had English and History together, but other than in class, I never talked to him. We never talked on the phone. We never hung out at lunch time or after school. But in class, we had a weird sort of connection.

Before I left Australia, I bought an empty journal for my friends to write in so I could keep a little book of memories. I gave my book to Ben to write in, and he took it home over the weekend. When he gave it back to me the next week, he had written 7 pages!

It’s not a love letter. Parts of it are even quite rude. He was sarcastic and obnoxious and immature… but he was also intelligent, and hilarious, and really, really sweet to me. And his letter means more to me than I could ever say. I take it out and read it whenever I need to experience that feeling again… that je ne sais quoi.

Dear FannyHead,

Do you want me to start of [sic] this letter with a passionate and emotionally wrenching line? “I’ve never been good at goodbyes!!” Is that good enough for you. Quite frankly I’m glad to see you leave you arrogant American. I despise you and your accent and that essay you wrote that was better than mine. I didn’t get a copy you know! Not really, I’ve actually grown quite fond of you and our intimate History and English relationship that has evolved over the past year.

(I told you he was sarcastic! Next he writes lyrics to a song by a punk band about how lost America is, and then he continues with this…)

Well it sounds too [sic] me that America isn’t the heaven that you make out. If I was to, in the near future, become President of the USA I would pass a bill banning the production of cheese. Wisconsin would become economically destroyed and you and your family would fucken starve. Nah, not really. I’d hire you as my secretary and sexually harrass you. Nah, only joking. Nah, I would pass a law banning student exchange from America to make sure that no other Australian men have to feel the same ‘pain and loss’ that I feel at your leaving. AM I FUCKEN GOOD WITH WORDS OR WHAT? You have to admit that I’m a champion letter writer. You’ll be able to brag and show all your yankee friends a letter from the most luscious and sexy Australian stud! I hope you like my letters. Your letters are alright but they lack a certain zest that only Australian letters can possess.

(we exchanged letters to pass the time in class!…)

I never thanked you for the last letter you wrote me… and I’m not going to. It’s not often that I get lost for words but I spent the last five minutes trying to decide what to write next. I don’t know whether to continue on my normal rude way, or get all emotional at the sadness and disbelief of you leaving. Fuck that. Me and you had some sicko times eh? I have to admit that English and History were probably two of my better subjects, you have to feel the same. The only reason I ever turned up to class was to pull the piss out of you so indirectly you have been a positive influence on me. And when I pull the piss out of you or your accent, you laugh and then retaliate and I laugh and then we are both laughing and you look at me in a stupid way and I tell you to fuck off and this continues until the bell goes and then we part. Until the next English or History lesson. Fuck me, I’m getting serious. I’ll let Will say his ‘fuck off’s and try and think of some more rude jokes.

(a few paragraphs from Will… then a few more smart ass paragraphs from Ben, some made-up lyrics to a really rude song, then this. The part I read over and over again…)

That song is pretty rude eh? So rude in fact, that it is beyond even my realm of rudeness. I warned you, but you didn’t listen… you innocent American. Are you going to miss me and my rudeness. I could, like all the other ignorant fools in this book write ‘please remember me,’ but I won’t. In two years you will be well and truly forgotten in my mind and I expect that Ben will be eventually lost from your vocabulary. All I want to ask is that you always value the friendships and the Australian culture that you made your own. I know that Australia isn’t paradise and I’m not fooled by your ‘I don’t want to leave’ statements, but I hope that sometime in the future, the year that you spent here will mean something. (I’m being serious now so saviour [sic] it). The way I look at it our lives are simply large rocks and we are the sculptors. With every experience we have and decision we make the rock is chipped away until we are left with the final product. Either a disaster, or a masterpiece and I’m sure that your decision to come here will help shape that masterpiece. I know that in the big scheme of life we will have forgotten each other in a matter of years, but I know that every American I ever meet will revive memories about our time together. You have an aura of confidence that even seeps into me sometimes and I’m sure that you will find meaning and purpose along whatever path you choose. I hope you build your own path and one day our paths may cross but I know that won’t happen. Goodbyes are good in a way. They show all the shallow people that all the trivial things in life, such as friendships with American exchange students, are often the most valuable.

And he signs it, Kiss my ass – Jasper.

I don’t know what happened to Ben. I haven’t talked to him since I left. He’s one of the few I haven’t been able to find on facebook. And I haven’t even asked my Aussie friends where he is. He’s probably married, with a couple of kids, a beautiful wife, and a very successful career. He was going places back then, and I have no doubt that he got there. I never told him how much his letter meant to me… but it sure takes me back. To that time. To that feeling. To that person I was then. That year was the most amazing year of my life. Thanks, in part, to Ben.