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The seventh grade yearbook. My ex-wife just
returned this with a box of my things. I have never really looked
at before. There I am on page fifty; it's the only place you'll
find me. Look at who's around me there, like there was some special
relationships more than our alphabet. One to the left and one down:
Marney Overly, my first and only grade school romance. We went out
in the 5th grade for three weeks, and then she called it off. Later
she reinitiated and we saw each other secretly for another three
weeks. Directly below me: Tammy Partner. I didn't even know she
was alive at this point; in high school she became my sisters best
friend, and then she got pregnant with Greg Myers who was my best
friend up to the 5th grade, before we got in a fight and he tried
to kill me with a kitchen knife. I guess now I am glad he did because
my life might have been dramatically different otherwise. I recognize
everyone in this book, and this seems remarkable. So I was
suffering here. I think this was the last time I bought a yearbook,
or even showed up for a photograph. I would be No Photo Available
after that. And none of these kids were my friends at this point.
But some how I still remember all of their faces and more than that,
how they held their bodies, how they walked. Most remarkable of
all is that they don't look like kids to me. My memories of them
are fused with each of their places in the social order--as archetypes.
I'll tell you one thing though, I can see now that it was really
my own doing the suffering. These really were just kids.
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