The Summer of 1985

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I recently received a direct message on LinkedIn from a woman in Iceland. 

The woman, Sigridur Gunnarsdottir, wrote: “I’ve been following your writing lately and really enjoying it. The last piece I read was in your newsletter where you wrote about how hard it is to remember and how you regret not having kept notes.”

She explained that she could relate to the feeling after having spent a decade with her head down working in a stressful job at a hospital. 

As a writer, it’s always encouraging to get a message like that.

This time, however, was different. 

Sigridur continued: “I spent the summer of 1985 in London, and I have not kept in touch with people I met during that time. So, my question is whether you might have spent that same summer in London?”

That stopped me cold. How could she have known?

I’ve never written publicly about working in a bar in London that summer and it’s not on my CV. It was in between my freshman and sophomore years in college. 

Intrigued, I responded. 

It turns out Sigridur worked as an au pair for the owners of a pub in Kew Gardens called the Kings Arms where I bartended. She was just 15 and spent most of the day upstairs. 

The owners would periodically have her come down to tidy up the pub. She had the foresight to write down everyone’s name. She also took photos.

She sent a picture of me wearing the pub’s weird floral uniform. 

It was a shock that brought back memories. I didn’t have a camera that summer and have no other photographs, which is probably why I don’t think about it.

The exchange reminded me that the past is never reliably buried. 

We’ve seen that in recent years with the discovery of Shackleton’s shipwreck near Antarctica and the digitization of church records that have extended family trees. 

Online, Facebook facilitated the re-discovery of people you knew from college or high school. For me, that started with Americans in 2008 and gradually spread globally. 

I went to high school in Norway in the 1980s and initially lost touch with everyone. I’m now reconnected with many of the class and hoping to attend a 40th anniversary this spring.

Sigridur and I texted via LinkedIn’s platform and then got on a Zoom call.  

One of the unanticipated joys of being in your 50s is connecting with people who can shed light and provide perspective on long ago moments in your life. 

We talked about the twists and turns of fate. She did graduate studies in Wisconsin and might have stayed were it not for the disruptions following 9/11. 

She tried to find some of the other bartenders from the pub, including Roy, Michael and Jane. 

But I was the only one she was able to locate online. 

She pointed out that in Iceland, a country of just 400,000, it’s easier to keep track of people. If you weren’t sure what happened to someone “you just call your aunt.” 

I understand not everyone is eager to have an online presence. 

But doing so can open up a surprising amount of insight. 

It can connect you not just with the present, but the past. 

And in the process, remind you where you were in the summer of 1985.

BRIEF OBSERVATIONS

LONDON A TO Z: The summer I lived in London I carried around the book London AZ which is a map that lists all the streets in the city. It was the only way to find anything. I still have my copy.

AI OVER IMMIGRATION: Evidently, people are now more worried about AI than immigration.

NYC ATTITUDE: This perfectly captures a New York City sensibility.

WHAT WE WRITE ABOUT WHEN WE WRITE: Jon Winokur manages a wonderful feed of posts from writers about writing.

NAPKIN RING: My father is still using the monogrammed napkin ring he was given as a child. It’s at least 95 years old.