Bronze!

When I first met Chris Campbell, he was living on the floor of Burgess Hall that was suspended between the first floor, mine, and the basement of the dormitory.  Our two short floors were like brother/sister houses and we all partied together.  But Chris and I made a special connection.  
He was a wrestler, which I knew nothing about,  and he was quite good at it.  He won most of the time and was coached by Dan Gaeble, who had a great reputation for coaching wrestling.  
Chris was an interesting guy--the thing  I remember the most is that he could use two or three fingers to braid his afro hair into the tiniest little braids all over his head.  It amazed me!
We spent a lot of time together so I asked him to come with me for Thanksgiving.  His family was in New Jersey leaving him alone for the holiday.  Unfortunately, my father was not happy rejecting the idea.  That year I spent Thanksgiving in Burgess Hall with Chris. 
We didn't talk much as the post school years passed.  He won a Bronze medal in the Russian Olympics for wrestling which was totally awesome.   I was happy for him; it was what he had worked for...well, gold would have been better in his mind, but in my mind medaling in an Olympic event was an amazing achievement.
Years later, while sitting in a lounge drumming up business,I ran into a 'pee-wee' wrestling coach.  He said he knew of Chris but regretfully told of his passing due to some horrible disease. 
I was devasted!  Tirelessly, I searched online to find information, only to discover the guy had lied and Chris is alive and well, practicing Sports Law in California.  We have talked since then and it was wonderful to reconnect with him.  It's funny though; his voice was completely not what I remembered.  It's odd that something that important can be forgotten. 

Thanksgiving ingrate

It was Thanksgiving, a time to be with family and friends for a great dinner. We didn’t have anyone to be with, so we decided to find someone else who had no one to be with and spend the day together. A friend, who is disabled by weight, preferred to be at home, so we took our dinner fixings and went to her house. It seemed like something Jesus would do and that felt good after being sad for so long.

When asked to clean the kitchen first before cooking, it irritated me to be honest. However, cooking in a dirty kitchen is no fun, so it was the first order of business. Next, put the turkey in to cook. It was small; a turkey hen, 8 lbs. so it shouldn’t have taken too long and it had a popper. While that was cooking, there was more food to make. The sides including candied sweet potatoes, corn casserole, mashed potatoes, and stuffing along with some other things.

The popper popped out, the meat thermometer read done so out it came. She said she didn’t think it was done but couldn’t say why the two checks said it was done. We cooked the side dishes getting hungrier by the minute.

When it came to carving the turkey, it was not done, just as she had said. She stated it wasn’t done at the time, but didn’t want to argue so let it go. I couldn’t even believe that she didn’t protest if her true belief was that it was not done. Who does that?

Well, there we were – all the sides were done and the turkey had to go back in the oven. As we stood there trying to find a way to salvage dinner, I said we could eat what was ready while we waited. I also thought we could cut up the turkey and it would finish cooking faster.

I was so shocked to hear what came out of her mouth! “I trusted you to know what you were doing and now dinner is ruined.  I will have no part of eating what’s ready without the turkey; it just isn’t dinner if it isn’t all eaten together. Cutting it up is not acceptable– it’ll be dry and horrible that way.” And, the truly shocking comment: “I’m starving, so would you go to McDonald’s and get me some burgers while we wait for the turkey to finish cooking?”

So, she had required me to clean her house, insulted both my son and me during the time we were there, and now this! I very quietly packed up my things, put on my coat and left her house. Speaking would have been a mistake because I certainly couldn’t have contained my anger with a civil tongue. As we exited, I could hear her saying, “So you’re leaving? You are going to just leave me with all this mess? How am I supposed to clean this up?” No apology for being unreasonable or inflexible. No thanks for what we had done up to that point.

It was a disappointing day for everyone, I imagine. We didn’t get to eat any of the food we had cooked and she didn’t have us there to clean her kitchen. I thought about writing a note to say why I had left because there’s a doubt in my mind that she even knew how insulting and spoiled she sounded. But I still can’t think of anything to say that would be diplomatic. So, this story ends with loss of friendship and no desire to make amends.
It was an unhappy holiday; we tried to be a blessing even though it didn't quite work out that way.  I believe the effort should always be made however it turns out. 

Waking Up

Standing in the hallway of the school, shuffling from class to class, it was as if I had awaken from sleep.  But it was 6th grade and I had been in this school the previous year.  All of a sudden, I was aware - of everything.  I knew these people; had friends, but the memories of interacting with them did not exist.  As I headed to my locker, unpleasant feelings began to well up inside.  The reason was unclear. 

This began my life in a way; the previous years only exist in small glimpes.  There was the time I played marbles with the boys in Germany and I won more often than not.  There was a boy there, Phillip, with red hair and freckles -  we were sweethearts at 5 years old.   Other small clumps of time were castles climbed and explored.  Learning German nursery rhymes and seeing German horse patrols. 

Why do people lose their memories?  If you talked to a therapist, perhaps they would be able to explain; but would you truly want to know?