There are times I am amazed at what appear to be coincidences, but are – I think – something larger, something that comes from the power and energy of thoughts focused on another person. Case in point, this story.

I have a framed costume rendering in my upstairs bathroom from my days in graduate school. Impossible to get a good photo because it’s dark outside and the bathroom is teeny-tiny, but here it is.

I played a character named Kleopatra in Diary of a Scoundrel, a play by Alexander Ostrovsky. She was an older woman who was, how do I put it…..? Oversexed. It was a comedy and a lot of fun and at one point I chased a younger man around a pouf (a round settee that would be placed in the middle of a room) until I collapsed, skirt hiked, bloomers showing. That white satin material was used for the bloomers.

These bloomers, which I have passed on to Letitia, my vintage dress form and which I could never hope to get into again. I was very skinny in those days.

My friend, Richard, who was studying costume design at Temple, designed the dress, the bloomers, all of my costumes. He somehow managed to misplace those bloomers and strangely enough they ended up in my possession. Sort of like Don’s hat and eye patch ended up here with us in the cottage.

Richard and I were close friends during our time at Temple and for several years afterward. When I graduated, I was doing temp office work to pay my rent. I had very little money. Richard began working for the Opera Company of Philadelphia and he got me in there as a makeup artist. When an opera was being staged and produced, I did the makeup for the chorus. That’s where I got to see Pavarotti sing, watch him direct and, secretly, look at the huge mum-muu like costume pieces he wore. (One incident might have involved both of us donning one of his shirts with room to spare.) The extra money I earned was a blessing.

There was a publication called ArtSearch (still is) that listed job openings in the performing arts, with a focus on universities. I wanted to teach at a university, but one had to subscribe to ArtSearch and receive it in the mail in order to have any idea what jobs were being listed. I was so poor that I couldn’t afford it. So how would I ever know about job openings?

Richard surprised me and gave me a subscription as a gift and that subscription led to my first job at Boston University and the rest of my career. I am ever grateful to him.

After I moved to Boston and then on to San Diego, we touched base occasionally but, as happens, our lives were on different tracks and many years went by without contact. Two weeks ago, I was in that bathroom and looked at the rendering, thought of Richard, and decided I had to Google him and find out where he was so that I could write him. For various reasons, a few days went by and I hadn’t followed through.

I opened my email the next week and saw a message that had come to me via my professional website.

It was from Richard. He had tracked me  down. We had been thinking of each other at the same time. It was such a delightful surprise that our thoughts had reached out to each other across and through the ether. We have now reconnected and I was able to thank him again for all he did for me many, many years ago. He’s well. He’s married. He’s happy. He’s still working and teaching.

I’m very happy about that.

I thought you might like that story.

The limelight hydrangeas are in bloom.

As is the liatris.

And that’s a teeny tiny little bug on that coneflower.

Happy Friday.