I met Andy at a bar to talk. I had never met him before, he was just a friend of a friend; later I’d find out he wasn’t even that. He was a squirrely guy, about 32 and nervous, jumpy. The kind of person who makes you uncomfortable because you feel like at any moment they could latch on to your arm and never let go.

We met up because he was new to Philly, looking for a job in video production. At that time I wasn’t in much of a position to help him- I had as tentative a grasp on my own survival as you can have before slipping away and spiraling off the earth, but really he needed someone to
talk to.

As it turned out he had lived here before, years ago. He had gone to California in search of a new life.  Traveling, exploring, learning the world. The lines on his face and his hunched, timid demeanor gave me an idea of the lessons he had learned.

After a beer or two he confided: “One thing I learned from travel.. You can’t trust anyone.”

I nodded in sympathy, but sensed a disconnect.  I knew his lesson wasn’t true, but I understood why he might think it was. When you’re traveling, all of your relationships are temporary. And there can be no foundation of trust within such temporary circumstances.

I’ve heard stories of friends striking out on a journey across the country, only to end up hurting each other, betraying each other, and abandoning each other. They made it to California alone, or they just didn’t make it at all. Maybe that’s traveling, or maybe that’s just the kind of friends you make when your idea of a road trip begins with stealing a car.  Looking at Andy, I couldn’t tell which he was. A victim of the elements, or a degenerate.

In any case, he had come back to Philly, haunted by some ghost. A girl he had left behind. Or maybe she had left him. Or maybe they had never been really together. He didn’t say, but clearly some memory of her had brought him back here.

And now he had become a ghost. I imagined him wandering the streets- filled with regret, desperation, guilt.  Searching for whatever it was he lost.

After that meeting I never saw him again. There was no real connection. Nothing I could do to help him, but also I didn’t want to get sucked into his world.

So there must be a reason that Andy popped into my head today.  As I look into the future, I can not think of a thing more frightening than becoming a ghost in my own past.

I’m haunted by Andy’s story. Will I become like him someday?

I’ve thought about it, and here’s what I’ve decided:  Ghosts aren’t here to warn us of the future. They’re here to focus us on what is important.  You can’t worry about regret. You’ll regret things or you won’t.  But either way, if what you’re going after is worth it, these consequence
don’t matter.

I wonder what Andy would think of this…  I wonder if things worked out.