SUBSCRIBER 12 - THOUGHT 1

December 21, 1992

Eliot,

Here's my thought.

After reading this thought journal I'd like to make my first contribution by writing about this wonderful, wacky narrator, my friend Eliot.  It's how I see Eliot from my experiences with him -- he's probably just one of those people -- you either love him or you hate him -- I'm of the former.   We must begin by recounting the tale of how we met.  It was in the summer of 1982 -- I was eighteen and feeling adventurous -- mind you, reader, that my sense of adventure, at that time, was comparable to sticking one's toe, maybe even the big toe, in shallow water.  In any event, I decided to go to Europe -- I had just completed my freshman year at Temple University.  I signed up for an AESU Tour -- that's American European Students Union -- sure sounded good!  Fifty-two days this tour was to last, through some twenty to thirty countries throughout Europe.  I embarked on this trip alone, that is I didn't have a friend from home to accompany me as a security blanket.  To say the least I was not the most outgoing of individuals but there was no question that I had to communicate with others on our tour or I'd have no one to talk to.  Upon meeting Eliot, I was struck by his forwardness, brashness, boldness, bravado and what I thought to be the biggest "B" of all -- Bullshit!  I initially thought him a braggart and was wary of charting any strange new territory with this very unusual and alien individual at least to my sensibilities at the time.  For some strange reason, Eliot seemed to take an interest in me and it was apparent that he wanted to get to know me.  Everyone on the trip did pair up with another person.  So it would come to pass that from our meeting in London we would experience Europe together.  I would say that it wasn't only the exposure to other lands and cultures that made me view the world differently -- but namely, the exposure to Eliot.  His openness and expressiveness about his feelings was something to which I was unaccustomed.  I certainly didn't know or had ever known anyone who expressed their thoughts and feelings so freely  -- and with such passion and conviction -- who on earth was this strange creature?  I certainly was intrigued -- this to me was exciting and new and a little frightening.  I truly enjoyed our endless talks -- I felt comfortable with Eliot.  Had I just traveled through Europe without him -- it would have simply been cathedrals, castles, history and sun -- Eliot made it all that and a human experience for me.  Eliot is and was a compelling storyteller --after all I'd heard from him about all this fucking he'd done -- I thought he must be doing something right!  Eliot was fun - loving and spontaneous -- like a kid in a candy store that wants to taste every piece.  A bond of friendship was formed that summer -- different from any other I'd ever had.  I guess it's true that men are taught to relate to one another around social functions, such as sports and activities -- woman have the luxury of growing up with emotional friendships.  What hit me that summer, simultaneously happy and sad, was that in essence this was my first real friendship with any depth.  All my previous years were spent with friends who I know little about & who knew little about me.  During our travels, Eliot was endlessly telling me to loosen up, break out of my shell -- to get rid of my shyness.  There was no question Eliot was right -- I was a stick in the mud and it took me eighteen years to make this incredible discovery!  Eliot just seemed to live and feel with a greater intensity than anyone I'd ever known.  I recall Eliot not just getting a little angry at this or that individual but rather filled with bloodcurdling rage and not shy about showing it -- who could forget those altercations with our tour guide, Chris!  On the other hand, I recall his kindness, concern and compassion over other people's troubles, including my own.  Eliot, I can't tell you how happy I was, as simple as it may seem, that after reading this thought journal, I can feel that you're the same marvelous individual I met ten years ago  Your enthusiasm, passion and lust for life hasn't lessened but you've ripened with wisdom and experience.  What sticks out in my mind when I recall our parting at the culmination of the tour, was the sadness I felt that, perhaps, I'd never hear from or see my new friend again -- Possibly, distance and time would extinguish our friendship.  For fifty-two consecutive days I had someone to really talk with and this would now abruptly come to a halt.  After returning home, I had changed because of you -- I began to tell those who mattered to me if I felt hurt or wronged by their actions -- or if I felt anything at all.  You were the beginnings of my learning to communicate.

Eliot and I would later meet up again in Florida, in January of 1983.  He was recovering from his re constructive surgery to his face as a result of his devastating car accident.  Prior to my visit, Eliot had informed me on the extent of his injuries but that he was all put together -- though his face was still swollen.  I was still quite nervous upon ringing the Bernstein's doorbell -- thinking what if he looks like a monster -- what do I say? 

The door opened -- there was no mistaking the person in front of me extending his warm greeting -- Eliot Bernstein, of course.