Right on the heels of me whining about whether or not my blogging is reaching anyone, I got an email from someone who I was friends with back when I was kid. He lived, for a time, in the town I grew up in, and we had a few shared interests. He moved on, I moved on with my life, and by the time I got to where I am today I only dimly remembered him (since I don’t normally spend a lot of time thinking about my childhood any more than I have to).
And then I get this email out of the blue; my name came up out of the depths of his memory, he plugged it into Google, and then he found my blogs. So we’ve been talking back and forth the past couple of days, and with each exchange, I’m remembering more and more good times that I had all but forgotten. (Like the fact he had Shockwave, which was too cool for words. Or clandestinely listening to Petra’s “Beat the System” album over at his house.)
It sounds like he’s doing well; he has a job he loves, working at a country radio station. This doesn’t match up well with my memories of him, but then, I don’t match my impressions of what I’d be over 20 years later. (According to my master plan as a kid, I was already supposed to have a doctorate in Computer Science and be outselling Tom Clancy, Stephen King, John Grisham, and Robert Jordan. Damn, I’m behind.) I’m grateful that he wrote me, though; I have a lot more happy memories of growing up than I remembered I did, and he’s helped me bring some of them back out into the light of day.
So thank you, Brad. And, um, if you ever have a pair of tickets for Big & Rich or Alison Krauss that need a good home…you know where to find me.