Degrees of separation

I know someone.

That is to say, I did know someone. Once upon a time. For a year, we shared quite a lot of the same space. I counted him as a friend. I like to think he felt the same at the time.

 

(This is going to be one of those 'when I lived in England' stories, so if you've had enough of those, feel free to check out now, and I'll see you next week.) 

Yes, when I lived in England the first time--2006-2007--I traveled in the same academic and social circles as a fellow called Tom Weston Jones. I won't be surprised if you don't recognize his name, but if you've been watching Shadow and Bone on Netflix, you'll have seen him. I haven't. I got rid of Netflix last year in a fit of economy, and I learned this tidbit secondhand from a mutual friend from our Royal Holloway drama department days. He seems to pop up every so often in the oddest of places, but it's always nice to see him. He's doing exactly what he set out to do, what he went to school for. Most of the rest of us drifted into other lines of work, but he stuck it out and made it work for himself, and it's nice to see.

In 2012, he had the leading role in a BBC America program called Copper. I remember at the time seeing the preview commercials and looking at this one bloke and going "I swear to God I know you", but his hair was just different enough and he wasn't wearing his glasses (okay, maybe I should lay off Lois Lane for being so clueless,) that it took a 'behind the scenes' type promo with his name plastered up next to his face for me to figure it out.

(I may have shrieked in a rather undignified manner, possibly followed by a great deal of something that was certainly not gleeful bouncing, thank you very much.)

 

Tom's had a reasonable run of recurring characters on several shows since then--and yes, I did check IMDB. And honestly? That was a giggle. Not the mean, sniggering kind. It was more the disparity between the serious, actorly head shots and production stills and my memory, because I remember a nineteen-year-old boy snuggling under a borrowed pink blanket dying of man-flu. I remember him playing the sadistic dentist in the musical theatre society's production of Little Shop of Horrors, and how I managed to go see his show, but he didn't make it to mine (I was doing Richard III with the drama society and our rehearsals and runs overlapped,) and I remember having a good pout about it. To be fair, he had other friends in RIII with me, so it wasn't just me who was stroppy about it...but I suspect I might have been the slightest bit stroppier than the others. I remember the time we all put into our performance research project and how he was self-conscious about having to perform with his shirt off and how his leading lady constantly made doe-eyes at him--onstage and off. I remember a game of Wizards, Pixies, and Giants played on the lawn outside the Noh Theatre to blow off some steam when we were all at the end of our tethers with that project. I remember a party at our local pub to which he wore a very silly costume indeed. I remember lunches at that same pub with the big group, or in smaller subsets. I remember one of the modules we were in together (there were three) called The Body as a Medium of Expression or something equally vomitrocious where we both opted for a more realistic and less rolling-on-the-floor-moaning-like-a-sheep-having-an-orgasm interpretation of our monologues. He did Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing, Act II, scene i, "O, she misused me past the endurance of a block" etc. I did Miranda, The Tempest, Act I, scene ii, "If by your art, my dearest father, you have put the wild waters in this roar" etc. The tutor absolutely roasted us, but popular opinion was against him, so that at least was a comfort.

I remember his incredible capacity for kindness. I remember his ready laughter and innate playfulness. I remember his enthusiasm when you got him going on a favorite subject.

We lost touch after that year, and I hold no illusions about him remembering me in more than a foggy sort of "Oh, here's a picture from uni, that was the American girl" way. I definitely don't expect him to remember the details of that year like I do--I have a knack for that kind of recall that is usually greeted by cries of "How in the hell do you remember these things?!" It's just nice to be able to say, "Yes, I knew him once. He was a good human then, and it looks like he's kept up that trend." 

It would be nice to have the chance to tell him that I'm proud of what he's accomplished, and I think of him fondly from time to time, and I'm grateful that our paths crossed, however briefly. As it is, this will have to do. I'll offer it up to the ether for what it's worth.

(And you can all say you have one point of separation from him, now, so...you're welcome? 😜)