Searching on a lark
The last post brought up a friend of mine from grade school, Lark Ellsworth. Let me make it clear that the reason I will be writing Lark Ellsworth’s name in its entirety is that apparently Google has “about 12,100” results for Lark Ellsworth but none contain “Lark Ellsworth”. Hopefully this entry will rectify it and in the off, off chance she searches her name in quotes (“Lark Ellsworth”), this blog will appear. Considering my memory is and always has been patchy at best, my rose-tinted thoughts of our friendship may or may not have been accurate. That said, I believe we were good friends, Lark Ellsworth and myself, and I am inclined to believe that if we still knew each other, we still would be.
Lark Ellsworth was the kind of person that you did not meet everywhere you went. She was genuinely considerate, friendly and caring. I don’t believe Lark Ellsworth was that way due to the young, possibly naïve age at which I knew her. I truly feel like she was that way because it was who she really was. Often times I think back to the way Lark Ellsworth would treat me with compassion when others wouldn’t, which tended to be more often than not. As with every grade school class, we pretty much stayed together from kindergarten through sixth grade, so if someone in your class wasn’t the nicest to you in those formative years, they generally didn’t have a high opinion of you when we finally departed company for our next scholastic assignment. Lark Ellsworth though, didn’t have a malicious bone in her body. Instead it seemed to me that she was built entirely of forgiveness and pleasantness. For that, I thank whoever created her.
Lark Ellsworth was talented as well. She played a mean violin and by the age of nine, I have no doubt in my mind that she could have conquered the cello. By the time we parted ways, she also spoke better French than most people I knew. Even the French ones. Including my grandparents. I have no doubt that she has excelled in her life so far and will continue to do so in the future. Lark Ellsworth, or at least her family, sent us a Christmas card one year (I believe it was when we were eighteen, but again, the patchy memory), but that was the last I heard from her, or her sister Robin (who incidentally has left barely more information through Google than her older sister has). I would like her to stumble across this entry if only to see how she is doing. Were I to see her again, I would love to catch up with her and hell, I’d even buy her lunch.
It is not a rare occasion when I think of Lark Ellsworth. Mostly I am sent reeling back into my passed by the smell or taste of something. Generally I find myself thinking about a time of greater innocence, if there ever was one at any rate. That time usually revolves around the complete and utter lack of responsibility inherent to childhood and subsequently what I spent most of my time doing during it, ala school. When I think back to Knox elementary, I have five very distinct memories.
Lark Ellsworth
Getting my front tooth knocked out by Chris Hirsh (who I hope has crabs)
Lark Ellsworth somehow pulling strings to get Tina Evangelou to go to the multi-cultural fair with me
Mr. DiSalvo
Knocking over half of the potted pits our kindergarten class had placed on top of the bookcase dividing the “kitchen” and classroom with a wave of my hand
While Tina Evangelou will be addressed in a later entry, I felt that including her in the “difficult to find through Google” would be a lie since I think I found her, according to Google’s math, in “0.07 seconds.” If it is her, she’s an All-American rugby player and works for SANDAG. Tina, if you find this and remember me, hi. For three years I was head over heels in love with in the capacity that an eight through eleven year old can be. Silly, I know, but still. You would be one of the first in a long line of desperate, albeit truly unreachable crushes.
It’s funny how my memory works. Picture it as a moonlit night with patchy clouds. Most of the time, the moon is partially or completely obscured by those clouds. However, there are times when the moon shines unobstructed and illuminates everything in its pale gray rays. My memory of most events is obstructed, partially most of the time, by something I can only describe as mental clouds. They pass over memories and prohibit me from remembering things clearly when I want to. More often than not, those memories shine clearly when I don’t necessarily want them to.
So back to Lark Ellsworth. If I exude nothing but wonderful praise for her, it is because I believe her worthy of it. Occasionally I look back to the time we knew each other and think that I took for granted a great friendship. Certainly one can argue that we were in grade school and the only thing that matters after that is the alphabet and multiplication tables, but no matter what the age, I think friendships are ageless. Now before I go on sounding like a Hallmark card, let me remind you that my sentimentality goes only so far. I don’t look back to my friends’ weddings and newborns with a teary eye. I will admit though, I welled up when my Chargers went to the Super Bowl. In comparing (how tactless) my friendship with Lark Ellsworth and others I have had over the years, I find that not only does it stack up to some of the best friendships I’ve had, but in some cases surpasses them.
Am I a jerk for ranking friendships? I don’t think so, no. I’m sure a lot of people, possibly some who read this, have ranked their friends. Not only that, but perhaps they’ve even lumped friends into categories. Myself, I am guilty of that as well, but that just makes me a functioning human being. My uppermost tier is the “Who would I bail out of a Tijuana jail at 3 a.m.” group and at the risk of coming across as obsessing in this post, Lark Ellsworth is still one of those included in the group. Always has been. Even if I haven’t seen or spoken to her in eleven years.
Yes, it’s possible that Lark Ellsworth has turned into a different person than the one I knew back then. As much as I hope she is still the same great individual, I understand that people change and blah blah blah. Still, Lark Ellsworth, if you have transformed into a totally different being, I’d still like to know how you’ve been and how you’re doing. If you do happen upon this post, I hope you are able to see it for what it is (a Google powered Craigslist “Missed Connection”) and not what it appears to be (some creepy obsession thing) because as my aforementioned seven friends would vouch, I’m a good guy; which ironically has caused a lot of shit for me over the years.
But I digress. I guess it’s nice that I remember our times together as children. My favorite memory is of her in a flower print dress, looking out through those glasses and me in all my dull glory which I will spare you, running through the house of some person I vaguely remember at a party for something my patchy memory forbids me to recall. Funny how memory works, isn't it?
Lark Ellsworth was the kind of person that you did not meet everywhere you went. She was genuinely considerate, friendly and caring. I don’t believe Lark Ellsworth was that way due to the young, possibly naïve age at which I knew her. I truly feel like she was that way because it was who she really was. Often times I think back to the way Lark Ellsworth would treat me with compassion when others wouldn’t, which tended to be more often than not. As with every grade school class, we pretty much stayed together from kindergarten through sixth grade, so if someone in your class wasn’t the nicest to you in those formative years, they generally didn’t have a high opinion of you when we finally departed company for our next scholastic assignment. Lark Ellsworth though, didn’t have a malicious bone in her body. Instead it seemed to me that she was built entirely of forgiveness and pleasantness. For that, I thank whoever created her.
Lark Ellsworth was talented as well. She played a mean violin and by the age of nine, I have no doubt in my mind that she could have conquered the cello. By the time we parted ways, she also spoke better French than most people I knew. Even the French ones. Including my grandparents. I have no doubt that she has excelled in her life so far and will continue to do so in the future. Lark Ellsworth, or at least her family, sent us a Christmas card one year (I believe it was when we were eighteen, but again, the patchy memory), but that was the last I heard from her, or her sister Robin (who incidentally has left barely more information through Google than her older sister has). I would like her to stumble across this entry if only to see how she is doing. Were I to see her again, I would love to catch up with her and hell, I’d even buy her lunch.
It is not a rare occasion when I think of Lark Ellsworth. Mostly I am sent reeling back into my passed by the smell or taste of something. Generally I find myself thinking about a time of greater innocence, if there ever was one at any rate. That time usually revolves around the complete and utter lack of responsibility inherent to childhood and subsequently what I spent most of my time doing during it, ala school. When I think back to Knox elementary, I have five very distinct memories.
Lark Ellsworth
Getting my front tooth knocked out by Chris Hirsh (who I hope has crabs)
Lark Ellsworth somehow pulling strings to get Tina Evangelou to go to the multi-cultural fair with me
Mr. DiSalvo
Knocking over half of the potted pits our kindergarten class had placed on top of the bookcase dividing the “kitchen” and classroom with a wave of my hand
While Tina Evangelou will be addressed in a later entry, I felt that including her in the “difficult to find through Google” would be a lie since I think I found her, according to Google’s math, in “0.07 seconds.” If it is her, she’s an All-American rugby player and works for SANDAG. Tina, if you find this and remember me, hi. For three years I was head over heels in love with in the capacity that an eight through eleven year old can be. Silly, I know, but still. You would be one of the first in a long line of desperate, albeit truly unreachable crushes.
It’s funny how my memory works. Picture it as a moonlit night with patchy clouds. Most of the time, the moon is partially or completely obscured by those clouds. However, there are times when the moon shines unobstructed and illuminates everything in its pale gray rays. My memory of most events is obstructed, partially most of the time, by something I can only describe as mental clouds. They pass over memories and prohibit me from remembering things clearly when I want to. More often than not, those memories shine clearly when I don’t necessarily want them to.
So back to Lark Ellsworth. If I exude nothing but wonderful praise for her, it is because I believe her worthy of it. Occasionally I look back to the time we knew each other and think that I took for granted a great friendship. Certainly one can argue that we were in grade school and the only thing that matters after that is the alphabet and multiplication tables, but no matter what the age, I think friendships are ageless. Now before I go on sounding like a Hallmark card, let me remind you that my sentimentality goes only so far. I don’t look back to my friends’ weddings and newborns with a teary eye. I will admit though, I welled up when my Chargers went to the Super Bowl. In comparing (how tactless) my friendship with Lark Ellsworth and others I have had over the years, I find that not only does it stack up to some of the best friendships I’ve had, but in some cases surpasses them.
Am I a jerk for ranking friendships? I don’t think so, no. I’m sure a lot of people, possibly some who read this, have ranked their friends. Not only that, but perhaps they’ve even lumped friends into categories. Myself, I am guilty of that as well, but that just makes me a functioning human being. My uppermost tier is the “Who would I bail out of a Tijuana jail at 3 a.m.” group and at the risk of coming across as obsessing in this post, Lark Ellsworth is still one of those included in the group. Always has been. Even if I haven’t seen or spoken to her in eleven years.
Yes, it’s possible that Lark Ellsworth has turned into a different person than the one I knew back then. As much as I hope she is still the same great individual, I understand that people change and blah blah blah. Still, Lark Ellsworth, if you have transformed into a totally different being, I’d still like to know how you’ve been and how you’re doing. If you do happen upon this post, I hope you are able to see it for what it is (a Google powered Craigslist “Missed Connection”) and not what it appears to be (some creepy obsession thing) because as my aforementioned seven friends would vouch, I’m a good guy; which ironically has caused a lot of shit for me over the years.
But I digress. I guess it’s nice that I remember our times together as children. My favorite memory is of her in a flower print dress, looking out through those glasses and me in all my dull glory which I will spare you, running through the house of some person I vaguely remember at a party for something my patchy memory forbids me to recall. Funny how memory works, isn't it?
We are all so very sorry...
1 Comments:
This is a strange coincidence, but I found this post by Googling "Lark Ellsworth." (Well, without the quotes.) I met Lark at summer camp in 1993, and I share your same impression of her: an uncommonly grounded, genuine, kind, intelligent person. And I only knew her for a week! I'm sitting here in my apartment, 3,000 miles from San Diego, digging through old photos to put in an album, and I came across the meticulously labeled pictures I took that week at Raintree Ranch, and there were two of Lark and her sister Robin, and I was like, "I'll bet Lark is really cool now," so I Googled her name, and this was what I found. The Internets blow my mind sometimes.
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