My college religion professor loved him some karma. We sprinted through all the Abraham-based religions, Shintoism and Zoroastrianism (personal fave) to then spend weeks on Hinduism, reincarnation and karma. The class was a required Religion 101 and the teacher was, uh, “accommodating” toward us jocks, so the room was filled football, baseball and soccer players. The karma stuff was probably the teacher’s subtle way of encouraging the defensive line to stop throwing unwanted party guests off third floor balconies, as they were want to do.
The professor would speak of a giant sack that held all of our past deeds and our lives would be determined by its contents. Some things would play out in the near future, some later on and some may determine out status in out next reincarnation.
But I got a much better example than a giant sack.
In high school I dated a very nice girl. But as so often happens, a young man’s fancy wandered and we broke up. Our relationship became strained and although we still spoke to each other, it was rather chilled. To patch things up I, naturally, ran against her for class officer our senior year. For a position she had held for preceeding three year. And one I didn’t necessarily want.
It was out of spite. And I won.*
Blog-forward nine and a half years. “Hey Nabob? When's the reunion?”
Right. Class officers are supposed to be in charge of that. Fuck.
Tracking down old classmates has been an incredible plague. I would love nothing better than to ignore this or hire Magnum to find everyone. Google has done most of the work but there are also the wonderful cold calls.
Beeeep. “Hey Jake, this is the Nabob from high school. I got your number from your dad. He told me about his divorce, so sorry about that. Hope you’re doing okay. I see your siser at the Cowboy Cafe every once and a while. She's seems to be doing alright. How's uncle-hood treating you? Three kids by 23. Wow! But she still seems happy. Guess what? The ten year reunion is coming up and I’m trying to track everyone down. It’s going to be the day after Thanksgiving at (lame NOVA bar). It should be a good time. Give me a call back or shoot me an email at bloggedy dot blogblog at blogspot dot com . Cool. Oh, and the whole thing when you slept my girlfriend, that was, like, a decade ago, so who cares. You probably did me a favor, anyway. If it hadn’t been you it would have been some other guy. It was just awkward, you know, right before homecoming and all. OK, well, remember: reunion Friday after Thanksgiving. Cool. See ya"
I asked the girl who I broke with if she wanted to help, or at least pass along the names of people she still kept in contact with, and she wished me luck. And laughed in my face.
*The position afforded me unbelievable power and access to all levels of the school administration. Superintendent Gosling answered to me. I would call WAVA and Don and Mike and they would announce a snow day at my urging. It was a fabulous year. The elevator ran on time. Vending machines were stocked with the sweetest joys. The school swept all the science categories at VJAS. The Patriots beat the Generals in every sport.