In my July 2nd blog titled "Drama and Trauma in the Cinema House" I make reference to being informed of the death of a co-worker in the following manner:
"Monday evening I arrived for my shift and came across a cashier, Sari (pronounced "Shar-ee") Gacsaly, a beautiful dark-haired young woman of Hungarian descent who had an uncanny resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor. As I walked up to her, I could tell she was deeply upset.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"You don't know?" she answered.
"What?"
"Lindy's plane c rashed on the way to Utah. She and her parents and the pilot were all killed."
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This brief reference to my former co-worker, Sari Gacsaly, resulted in the following email from someone who did a search of her name the other day. He asked that I not use his name or city, but gave me permission to reprint the rest of the email...
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Dear Adrian,
First of all, you don't know me. Something possessed me to click Sari Gacsaly's name on a search engine. It was with much interest that I read your brief account of your conversation with her at the cinema 31 years ago. I was especially impressed by your description of her. She was one of a kind, as beautiful inside as she was on the outside.
I met her in mid 1973, after having moved back to Ontario (Chaffey H.S. class of 1967). I knew several Chaffey graduates of the class of 1972, and she moved in the same social circle that they did. The first time I saw her, I fell hopelessly in love. Assuming she would decline, I asked her out, and I was flabbergasted when she accepted. For weeks, I courted her in the parlor of her home, always chaperoned by her mother or grandmother.. I still remember the address - xxx W. xxxx St., Ontario. We became very close and intimate over the summer and fall of 1973. I've always figured it was because she met someone else, but anyway late that year, she gave me the old heave ho. I have nev er felt badly towards her for dumping me. I still had numerous bad habits left over from my time in Vietnam, and don't know how or why she put up with me as long as she did. Maybe it was just because she couldn't reciprocate what I felt for her.
Our mutual friend, Richard C., told me in 1980 that Sari had died in late 1979. I wish I knew more about that. Even though I have been married to a wonderful woman for 25 years, and have many children, and have had many lovers, Sari will always be the love of my life. The Sari I knew was perfect, a saint incarnate in human form, an avatar. Her beauty almost scared me, and sometimes I think she was just too beautiful and perfect for this world.
Certainly too fine for the likes of me...It was because I thought I couldn't handle seeing her without the closeness we once had that I up and moved out of California altogether. I have been down on the bayou ever since. Oddly enough, she never really believed she was all that much. A rare trait in a gorgeous woman, most of whom are full of themselves. Sari had humility and was nice to everyone.
Well, it gave me a thrill to find her somewhere on the web, even if just your brief account.
Bless you!
(name witheld at his request)
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In coming full circle, the young woman who informed me of the death of a friend, was revealed to have died nearly a quarter century ago herself. I wrote back to him and told him that I too, loved her. But my overtures went unrequited, "She gave me the 'let's be friends' speech," I informed him.
I was deeply saddened at this beautiful life cut so short. I remember seeing Sari perform in the Chaffey H.S. production of "I Never Sang for My Father," and it was the first time I'd ever seen theater in th e round. Sari said she could feel the intensity of my gaze as I concentrated on her superb performance. And her gypsy beauty.
I never sang for you, dear Sari. Probably a good thing...
So, I've found this person - or rather - he's found me, and we've become instant kindred spirits in our memories of this woman so long removed physically from this realm.
And I wrote back, asking him,
"Still, I'm curious as to what possessed you to enter the name of a "girl" who died nearly a quarter century ago into a search engine. No, wait - I think I know."
Posted by: Adrian / 10:35 PM
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