I was recently captivated by a video that appeared on my Facebook feed from Moncton, New Brunswick in the early 2000s. As a former resident of the city, I'm always interested in vintage videos, images, or stories from the province where I spent most of my youth. The video was probably 5 minutes long and had been recorded from the passenger side of a car, as the cameraperson documented what they were seeing as they drove through the downtown area, from businesses to city landmarks. It brought back memories inspired by locations where I spent time, many of which no longer exist.
I decided to check out this person's YouTube channel to see what else I could find. Much to my surprise, a cascade of memories pulled me back in time when I saw a video centered on friends from my youth, in the form of a documentary of a band they once were a part of in the 90s. I spent many hours in the house featured in the video, with the residents and others often dropping by, shortly after I moved to Moncton in the 90s. It was the first place I really felt I belonged, with a group of friends that accepted me. And when I started to watch this video, it was as if I were back in time again, walking through that same doorway.
The house itself was large, and old, from a time when homes had character, and with the right amount of TLC, it could've been a beautiful place again. Unfortunately, it had been neglected through the years. It was known as a party house before my friends moved in (in fact, I think they were some of the partiers) and I remember them saying there was a lot of deep cleaning required before anyone would move their worldly possessions in. I vaguely remember posters on the walls, the smell of cigarette smoke surrounding me, and empty Tim Horton cups sitting on the coffee table. And there was always music. Either a guitar being strummed or grunge music being played. In fact, I can't listen to an Alice in Chains song without being reminded of those days, that house, and my friends who lived in it. If walls could talk.
People were in and out of that house, probably all hours of the night and day. Mostly because the tenants worked all hours, some with more than one job, just to get by but also because a stream of visitors (including myself) was frequent. This was back in the day when people still visited one another before devices became more important than eye contact. None of us knew how lucky we were or how much the world would change.
Sadly, the changes included death. It was during that time that friends in my youth would start to die, much too young. One of the house's previous tenants, a man who became my friend after calling out 'hello' one day as I passed by, would commit suicide a few years later. I had spent some time with him but to this day, regret not having got to know him better. He was charismatic, friendly, and probably the first person I ever met whose reputation preceded him, for various reasons. He was a fascinating character who could've done a lot with his life. I regret he didn't have the opportunity.
Another friend I made during this time would pass away a few years later after I regretfully lost contact with him. During my early years in Moncton, we had many late-night chats on the phone, while he sat waiting for calls at a pizza delivery service that employed him. He essentially just sat there, waiting for the phone to ring, so he could chat on the phone in between. My friend was perfect for the job with a very smooth, kind voice, which made everyone at ease. When I found the video on YouTube that he was in, it sprung so many memories. Tears were in my eyes when I heard him talking to the camera, that voice I hadn't heard in decades. His easy-going manner, holding a guitar, it was as if time stood still.
I have so many memories from those days. Friendships that faded for one reason or another, but all are a part of me and always will be.
