I’ve known J since fourth grade but hadn’t seen him since our class reunion in 2000. He was on the final leg of a business trip and wore a suit to my office; I should have told him that we had gone casual six years ago. His thinning, gray-flecked hair accented the gravitas that had begun to blossom during his student council presidency decades ago. His suit gave him a distinguished appearance, but I could tell that he, like many people with Island roots, was not quite at home in a coat and tie.
J was used to public speaking in front of large groups, so I was surprised that initially his body language was defensive. (It’s just me, a guy that played tetherball with you at recess.) So I started talking about myself, something I don’t normally like to do, but if I take the first step other people usually begin to open up.
I told him about my undergraduate years in New England and subsequent life in the Bay Area. His college life, by contrast, was spent here, and he earned his graduate degrees back East. We talked about life’s unpredictable turns, our successes and failures, our children and parents, and the dreams we still hold. We discussed mutual acquaintances and larger purposes, and where we thought we would end up (me over there and him over here).
J and I aren’t really close, but I was pleased that he stopped by to see me today. I promised to see him at the reunion next June.
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