Labor Day Love

Jane (1986)   I doubt Jane Malden thinks about me much these days.  Check that, I'm positive she doesn't think about me at all.  In fact, I bet she hasn't thought about me in 35 or 40 years.  Why would she?  But that's not the case for me.  I think about Jane at least once a year (sometimes more, depending) - every Labor Day weekend.

     Christmas, New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day, your birthday... some days on the calendar bring with it a certain significance or celebration for most people.  I think I'd be hard-pressed finding someone who would consider Labor Day nostalgic enough to highlight or ignite the memory cannon.  It's supposed to be a day to recognize the American labor movement and the contribution of laborers. For most, it's seen simply as a three-day weekend and the official end of summer. But since 1986, Labor Day weekend has meant something different for me.  Trivial and insignificant in the grand scheme of things certainly, but nonetheless personally meaningful and memorable.  I can't escape how Labor Day always fills my head with images and memories of Jane, Gordie, Chris, Teddy, and Vern - five characters that remain alive and well in a special place in my heart and mind.  Of the five, Jane is the only one who is real.  

     Forty years ago, Jane Malden was a year behind me in college.  She had straight, dirty blonde hair parted in the middle and cut to her jawline - a bob cut.  She had brown eyes, a small Barbie-like nose, and prominent cheeks that complimented her slightly crooked, pearly white smile and perfect teeth.  On a looks-scale from bland to gorgeous, Jane would fall under the cute-plus category.  She was about 5'6" with a slim figure and small-sized chest.  Her arms were tone, attached to prominent shoulders.  Being a swimmer and tennis player played a part in her athletic physique.  She loved being outdoors which seemed to give her a constant warm, glowing skin tone, even in winter.  Hiking, running, and communing with nature were her favorite pastimes. A "free spirit" wouldn't be an incorrect description of her.  Never one to wear make-up or wear anything less comfortable than jeans and a sweatshirt or oversized sweater, the admitted tomboy could stereotypically be judged as gay.  As a casual friend of hers who shared a few classes and a few friendly tennis matches and walks together, I wondered that myself.  

     "There's just something about her" my lacrosse teammate Rob would say.  "I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, I like it. A lot."  Rob had a major crush on Jane. That she showed no interest in this ladies' man both confused and titillated him.  She had an attractive confidence about her, but on occasion, would show a shy and vulnerable side - but only if she trusted you enough to share something personal.  She was seemingly unphased by outside opinion, and who was interested in dating her.  She wasn't like the typical coed who used weekends as an excuse to get drunk and engage in activities that led to Monday morning regret.  Jane was different.  She stood out by not standing out.  I was smitten.  And I felt the same way Rob did - that there was something about her.  But I wasn't going to let him know that.  He and I were the two biggest competitors on the team, and I didn't need the challenge of a competitor off the field.  Unlike him, I already had a relationship with her - platonic, yes - but at least I was in a position for a possible upgrade.

     To my delight, I eventually learned that no, Jane was not gay.  It was the summer of 1986, before my senior year and her junior year, when I was lucky enough to upgrade my friends-only status. She drove from her home in Cheshire, Connecticut and I made the longer drive from Massachusetts to meet at a beach in East Lyme, Ct.  After a day of sunbathing and swimming, we went out to a sports bar for drinks and a bite to eat.  A brief romantic interlude followed during a long goodbye by her car in the parking lot.  That she smiled and blushed with shyness between the moments of our kissing only made me crush on her even more.  I think I tapped into that hidden something about her.  Eventually we left the parking lot and drove off in separate directions, her in her black Camaro and me in my '76 light blue Pontiac 6000.  Things seemed promising I thought, as I drove home in the warm and breezy night, happy to have gone from exchanging volleys on the tennis court with Jane to exchanging kisses in a parking lot.  But I was well aware, however, that the chances of a more serious relationship status were slim to none.  Our parking lot kissing wasn't so much a new beginning, but a beginning to a goodbye.

     The upcoming fall semester, Jane would be headed to England on a foreign exchange program.  I resigned myself to the fact that we were never going to be a couple because of that.  But maybe she would be interested in seeing me again and maybe engage in some more blush-inducing activities before she had to go.  I saw Jane one more time before she left. 

     It was Labor Day weekend when I took the 50-mile drive to visit her in Cheshire.  I stayed in her mom's guestroom Saturday night, and the next day - the day before Labor Day - the rain cancelled our beach plans.  We decided to see a matinee instead.  I suggested a new movie that had just come out, Stand By Me.  I may have heard or read a headline praising the movie, though I had no idea what it was about.  The title enticed me, in that it was also the title of a John Lennon song, which was reason enough for me wanting to see it, whether there was any connection there or not.  I only realized after the film, that "Stand By Me" the song, was actually a 1961 song by Ben E. King.  Lennon and many others had done covers of it since.  Another fact I didn't know was that Stand By Me, the movie, was based on a 1982 novella by Stephen King called The Body.  I learned this decades later (even though it is prominently displayed in the movie's ending credits).

       Both Jane and I really enjoyed the movie.  A story about four 12-year-old boys on a weekend quest along railroad tracks and woods to find the body of a dead boy hit by a train.  Along the way we learn of the collective experiences of Gordie, Chris, Teddy, and Vern.  We learn about their troubled and neglected home lives and their struggles navigating their way through the awkwardness of their pre-teens.  We chuckled at their vulgar insults and unabashed immaturity.  And we empathized with their unearned hardships and failed attempts at masculine gallantry. The shared bonds they had with one another seemed their only safe haven from the cruelty of a world they had little control over.  Jane and I laughed out loud at the "mother jokes" and the Barf-O-Rama scene.  We both ached for Gordie and Chris during emotional scenes that brought them both to tears.  And we serendipitously wide-eyed grinned at each other when the story's narrator - an adult Gordie (Richard Dreyfuss) - spoke these lines at the end of their adventure:

"We walked through the night and made it back to Castle Rock a little past

five o'clock on Sunday morning, the day before Labor Day...."

     I'm sure I liked the movie more than Jane did.  A coming-of-age movie from a boy's perspective tends to be favored more by the male viewer.  Conversely, a film like Thirteen, where the main character is a teenage girl, will elucidate more things in common with the female viewer.  With any well scripted and well-made film, rewatching it is probably the best metric in determining how liked the movie is.  My count of watching Stand By Me is probably six or seven times.  Another metric I have is how often real-life experiences immediately bring to mind scenes from the film.  A few of my own:

  -   I repeat Chris Chambers' line to Gordie whenever someone says, "I'll see ya" to me.  I reply, "Not if I see you first".

   - "Two for flinching" means I get two free punches to your arm if I make you flinch.  Something Teddy did to Vern often.

   -  Hiking in Glacier National Park, a pair of doe suddenly appeared only a few feet away from me on my path, staring motionless at me for a long minute.  The same thing happened to Gordie by the railroad tracks, which I thought of almost immediately.

   -  Every time I hear Ben E. King's song it brings me immediately to playing one or two random scenes from the movie in my mind's eye.

   -  I made my own amateur music video to the song When I'm Gone by Brian Vander Ark.  I ended the video with me walking away, disappearing using a fading effect.  I lifted that directly from the scene of Adult Gordie's narration of how Chris died, with Chris fading out of the picture while walking away. 

    -  And recently, when Rob Reiner - Director of Stand By Me - and his wife were brutally stabbed to death by their troubled son last December.  After immediate thoughts of sadness, I couldn't help but think of the parallel to how Chris Chambers died - being stabbed in the throat.  That horrific irony and analogy I refrain from fully diving into.   

Stephen King   It was only a year ago when I read my first Stephen King book, which was an arbitrary selection.  Nonfiction has never been my choice of reading material. Certainly not the science-fiction or horror genre.  Sports, politics, history, philosophy, biographies, are my preferences.  Typically, if it ain't true, I ain't interested.

     I Google searched "best memoirs".  King's On Writing repeatedly came up on Top 10, Top 20, and Top 50 lists.  The summary of it said part autobiography and part tutorial on how to write well.  After reading it, I became an instant fan.  His childhood struggles with poverty and medical issues, with depression and drug addiction as an adult, influenced not only his writing content, but served as motivation for excelling at his craft.  Underlining lines or paragraphs in books is common for me - in case I want to reread or reference something I found enlightening or provocative in the future.  I think I underlined more in On Writing than any other book I've read. King's simple yet profound instructions on how to write is essential for any inspiring author. His work ethic of writing, description, rewriting, detailing, editing, and more rewriting and more editing is a case study in perfectionism.  Being a repeated best-selling author of 67 books and winning 100-plus writing awards doesn't happen just by luck or talent alone.

     On Writing prompted me to read my first King book, the novella Apt Pupil.  It's a story about a teenager obsessed with Nazism and the horrific acts of the Holocaust.  He forms an admiring and sinister relationship with a former SS member trying to keep his past hidden. Disturbing and engrossing in detail, King's writing placed me amongst the characters in every scene, invisibly observing from a few feet away. It reminded me why I love Springsteen's songwriting so much.  Both writers personally involve me in their storytelling, on both an emotional and transcendent physical level.  It's no wonder that King and Springsteen are mutual fans of each other.  To date, I've read eight novellas and one novel by King - all excellent - including The Body.  When Director Rob Reiner previewed his movie version of the book, King was so moved and emotionally overwhelmed by Stand By Me, that he left the screening room shaking.  He retreated to the bathroom alone to compose himself.  He stated at that time that it was the best movie ever made from his work.

 Jane (2026)    It was Labor Day a few days ago, and so I searched for and found Stand By Me streaming on television.  So, I purchased the $3.99 rental and watched my own matinee at home. Because...of course I did.  I had seen advertisements and clips on my social media feeds, celebrating the movie's 40th Anniversary. I reclined in my Lazy-boy and watched for the sixth or seventh time the "ultimate train dodge", Gordie outrunning Chopper (the balls-sickin' dog), and the four boys discussing important topics of the day, like who would win in a fight between Mighty Mouse and Superman and the wonderment of Mouseketeer Annette's tits getting bigger.  And I saw once again, the incredible acting jobs of these four young actors, and an especially good job by a young Keifer Sutherland.  And like annual clockwork, it took me back to that Labor Day weekend of 1986, and me and Jane holding hands in that half-filled movie theater.  And to the night before hanging out on the balcony of her mom's condo.  And then back a month earlier, kissing in the parking lot of that sports bar after the day at the beach - me chasing that something in the night.

     I'm guessing Jane hasn't given an ounce of thought to Stand By Me over these last 40 years.  She probably has no memory of she and I ever going to the movies together and seeing it.  Hell, there's the chance that she may not even remember me at all, if my name were ever brought up to her.  

     By the time of her return from her college exchange year, I had already graduated.  We may have seen each other once more briefly or exchanged a few phone calls then, but our paths never crossed again.  Like Adult Gordie LaChance says at the end of the film about losing touch with Teddy and Vern:

"It happens sometimes.  Friends come in and out of your life like busboys in a restaurant." 

     Jane became one of those metaphorical busboys soon after graduation.

     Yet she still occupies a small-size file in my memory, to be opened up at least once a year, every Labor Day weekend.  A weekend insignificant to most, but not to someone whose personal timeline of memories is often uniquely and ubiquitously tied to movies and music.  And when I picture 20-year-old Jane Malden, I still always think, there was just something about her.  Not a bad compliment for someone I haven't seen nor forgotten about in forty years.