Struck Fancies: A Few Little Thank You Notes

Fate is a concept that has always seemed very real to me, along with pretty much every cliché that has to do with it — most significantly, that everyone comes into your life for a reason. Now, I’m not saying that this sentiment is as ultimate or profound as it sounds. For example, you could bump into someone on the sidewalk, and the most “reason” it might have is a small bruise the next day. And of course individuals have agency to change their lives. However, I do believe that external forces can be at work in this equation as well — that certain people can truly and positively affect you — whether that be through presenting you with the meaning of life or just catching your eyes and smiling when you need it most.

Because I am so enamored with this somewhat idealistic notion of destiny, I saw it as serendipitous when I came across this line in Truman Capote’s short story, “A Christmas Memory,” when the narrator is explaining to whom he and his elderly cousin give the fruitcakes that they bake during the holiday season: “Who are they for? Friends. Not necessarily neighbor friends: indeed, the larger share are intended for persons we’ve met maybe once, perhaps not at all. People who’ve struck our fancy.”

Before moving on, let’s just pause for a moment to reflect on the beauty of those last three words: “struck our fancy.” To me, this is less a British romantic thing (as in, someone ‘fancying’ someone else), but more a testament to how people can enter and exit our lives, striking a chord within us, so that we are forever altered by the experience of being in their presence.

I was very inspired by this story, as it helped me understand that I should probably be expressing more gratitude in my life. So I have compiled a very short list of people, some of whom I’ve never met, two of whom have passed away, one of whom is a fictional character, and most of whom I may never see again. But they all deserve my thanks, nonetheless, for shaking up, calming, and in some cases, awakening my mind and heart. They are some people who have “struck [my] fancy” . . .

To Arion: Thank you for playing music in ballet class that didn’t come from any standard book. Were they your own compositions? I may never know, but I cannot express how appreciative I am for your rescuing of us from the monotony of that same damn plié song in which all the other accompanists seemed to take comfort.

To e.e. cummings: Thank you for convincing me to believe in the power of poetry.

To little Sam and Abby, mes chéries: Thank you for being the smartest, most loving children and for not letting go of your hugs until I was safe from falling apart at the seams. I know that you will never let society corrupt you. Je vous adorerai toujours.

To the woman on the T that one time in the summer of 2010: Thank you for discussing how talented and gorgeous Robert from So You Think You Can Dance was on the orange-line commute with me after a long and lonely day.

To Dorothy Gale: Thank you for helping me redefine “home.”

To James: Thank you for being the first boy with whom I ever danced and for trying not to cry when I nearly broke your nose in a pirouette.

To the security guard outside the elevator in Centre Block: Thank you for understanding and sympathizing about how much wearing high heels all day sucks and that there was no way in hell I was walking home in those things, even if I looked ridiculous in tennis shoes and tights.

To the drummer of pots and pans at Faneuil Hall: Thank you for being so passionate about creating a rhythm that gives pedestrians a beat of hope. You are inspiring.

About a million more of these are awaiting structure in my head and I could make another (maybe longer?) list of instances where I have witnessed “ordinary” people positively influencing others in extraordinary ways.  There is something incredibly poetic about crossing paths, if only for a moment — something that is impossible to distill to words. In a brief attempt, though, it allows us to avoid becoming static. We move and grow, and through our encounters with others, we connect the world.