On Friday evening, we took a break from our renovation projects to attend the annual birthday celebration for our friend, Linda. Kris and I were sitting at a picnic table, watching other guests arrived, when suddenly I realized one woman looked very familiar. In fact, I knew her.
"Isn't that Shelley?" I asked. "From Willamette?" Kris shrugged. She hadn't known Shelley.
Even as this exchange was occurring, another ghost appeared before my eyes: Corinne! She of the curly hair and squeaky voice! Corinne lived on the first floor of Lausanne Hall our freshman year, at the same time I lived on the second floor (and Shelley lived on the third!). Corinne and I had a jocular friendship, based largely on pointed barbs regarding each others' political viewpoints.
(I always called Corinne "Puff", which was a bizarre way of describing her political beliefs. Once, during an argument in the dining hall, I accused Corinne of being a "fascist pig". For a time, I called her that, in fact. That made her cranky, though, so I called her "F.P." instead. This, too, made her cranky, so I called her "Fup". Still cranky, so I reversed it to "Puff", and how can you stay mad when all of a sudden it's all so silly? So I called her Puff for four years. Or seventeen.)
Kris, Corinne, and I chatted for about half an hour. It was great to catch up with her, actually. The three of us remarked at how odd — but great — it is that no matter where we go, it's always so natural, and so fun, to encounter former classmates. It's not the same as with high school classmates. With fellow Bearcats, we fall into an easy, breezy conversational reminiscence that makes our hearts glow for days afterward.
"Did you see that Shelley is here?" asked Corinne.
"You should go talk to her," Kris said.
So I did.
Shelley smiled when she saw me, and she gave me a hug. "When I walked in and saw you sitting there, I thought to myself, 'Can that really be J.D. Roth?'"
"I thought you wouldn't recognized me."
"Of course I recognized you," she said. "We dated, remember?" Of course, I remember. How could I forget?
Shelley and I shared stories and smiles, and caught up like Bearcats do. She seemed to harbor no ill-will for the past foolishness about which I feel so ashamed.
Then Kris and I went home to work on the house. "Who would have guessed?" we said as we drove away. "Four Willamette Bearcats at the same party." Three from a single dorm!
On this day at foldedspace.org
2003 — Authorized Apple Service Provider In which customer service isn't.
MAY BE IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY, JUST ISN'T THE SAME FAMILY. WHENEVER MY FATHER (KRIS'S GRANDFATHER) WENT SOMEWHERE, THERE ALWAYS SEEMED TO BE SOMEONE HE KNEW; ON THE TROLLEY IN SAN FRANCISCO, ON THE FERRY FROM VANCOUVER BC TO WASHINGTON, ON THE RIVER TOUR IN DENMARK, ON THE SIDEWALK IN LA. YOU GET THE PICTURE. IT WAS ALWAYS FUN TO GUESS WHO HE WAS GOING TO SEE AND WHERE.
NOW, BOB IS LIKE THAT AND ADAM IS BEGINNING TO BE LIKE THAT. BOB SEES PEOPLE AT THE AIRPORT, ON THE PLANE, IN SEATTLE, AT PARTIES IN THE BAY AREA, ETC.
ADAM KNOWS PEOPLE IN THE COMMUNITY BY THEIR DRINK. THE MAN WHO JUST HAD THAT ACCIDENT IS A TALL NON-FAT LATTE. THE WOMAN ON THE TREADMILL IS A GRANDE MOCHA FRAPPACINO. VERY FUN, BUT FRUSTRATING FOR SOMEONE WHO NEVER SEES ANYONE HERSELF.