Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said, “It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it’s less difficult to know that he was begun.” The story of Simon and myself is not your typical story about friendship and love.
We met 8 years ago. My day started the day before with a typical day of working both of the jobs I had at the time. I was working as a graphic designer for a local newspaper and then delivered the newspaper to 150 customers. The only time I could schedule a job interview was the next day with limited sleep. While driving to Stamford, Connecticut the job interview I was scheduled for was cancelled. I was already en route and I knew Simon wanted to meet.
I had to get gas and while I was there, I sent him an email telling him that the interview was canceled. He emailed me back right away and told me he was free to meet with me that afternoon. Instead of Stamford, I was heading to nearby Norwalk.
He knew about my curiosity about Fairfield County and sent me to a local park and a historic mansion in Norwalk to photograph to kill time. Half of his staff was out with the flu and he needed to get work done on a house he was renovating for a client. I stood on the grounds of the Gallagher Mansion in Norwalk with this mansion giving an eerie feeling that something happened. I walked the lightly snow covered grounds to find a small statue. As I was photographing it, I felt my phone buzz asking where I was and what I was doing. I remember taking a photo with my phone and sending it to him and telling him where I was. As I walked by the house for the last time heading back to my car there was a picnic table with snow-covered beanie babies and as I looked up there was a tattered American Flag and a rake that was nailed to the tree.
At this point, I was awake for 24 hours. I was tired but I didn’t want to cancel on Simon not knowing when I would be in Connecticut again. The Connecticut trip wave was always a hit or miss. I would go to Connecticut weekly for weeks or not go to Connecticut for weeks. I was not sure when the next opportunity would be to meet him.
I remember the pit in my stomach the day we met. I knew he was much different than myself and was not sure if our differences would even make a friendship work. His laid-back demeanor was noticeable as we walked into Panera Bread. It was late afternoon, and nobody was in the restaurant. Once we started talking his blue eyes captivated me. Prior to this moment, he was mysterious – his communication was short, and I felt like I knew nothing about him.
I remember him talking a lot. I saw his passion for politics, listened to his stories of what to do in Vegas and then he asked me
“How many photos did you take?” He asked. “A few hundred. If I had to guess about 500” I remember saying. “What’s up with the rake in the tree at the Gallagher Mansion?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“When I was walking to my car I noticed a rake high up in one of the trees. It was weird, it was next to the tree with the flag and there was some type of memorial with beanie baby like stuffed animals close by.”
“I never noticed; the house has some weird history. There was an asylum on the land that burned down then years later the Gallagher family purchased it. The husband died and the wife lived there until she was older then the staff took advantage of her. When she died, she had no money left over and the City of Norwalk eventually purchased the property and made it into a park”
“Interesting…” I said, feeling like I found something I could research.
We talked about the uniqueness of the park and the folklore of the historic mansion. He was passionate about history and historic things. He then told me he was a producer in LA then moved to Vegas to be a radio producer. As someone who spent a good chunk of my childhood with my dad who was in air and would often take me with him when he had to be live and on location or had me at the station with him. I perked up and wanted to know more about his radio days.
After we went our separate ways, he emailed me days later telling me it was not going to work out. I was disappointed, not that I had my hopes up but there was something about him. I am not sure what, even to this day.
I was so out of it that day that I didn’t catch the photographer’s reference. I beat myself up for years not catching this. At times I caught myself wondering “what if” and wanted to offer to grab the cameras and go to see if maybe my day was just off or maybe it was just meant to be.
It was the beginning of the pandemic, and I reached out to him asking if we could start over. Within 6 months before I had 3 surgeries on my ankle, a friend of mine died in a car accident and covid was taking over the world. I felt lost and confused over my personal life. He agreed but wanted to see me the next time I was in town.
Once Connecticut opened for New England travelers, I made the trip from Maine. It had been years since we were face to face. The pit in my stomach was there. I did not know what he was thinking or how long this arrangement was going to last.
I came up with the idea for Finding Connecticut later that year. I am not sure if he saw my vision for the site, but he saw my fight to get on media contact lists for the Live Nation venues, Mohegan Sun, and Foxwoods. Looking for contact, at the time I wanted to share the announcements. Last year that changed when he started photographing acts like Weezer, Squeeze and Psychedelic Furs, John Mayer, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and a handful of other acts. Also now communication is not short and mysterious like it was once before.
Over the course of the last four and half years things have molded into things I never expected. He plays a significant role in my life as best friend, mentor, and business partner. He is now telling me what concerts he wants to photograph for Finding Connecticut and ironically, I am the one not photographing.
This love wasn’t head over heels, fall in love the minute we saw each other. We had to be patient with each other with distance and time.