Monday, January 9, 2012

Careful what you assume

Sometimes I think I could do a lot worse, than be the person I was in junior high.  Running around playing tag with my neighbors, and such.  I was a long way from perfect, and did some things wrong.  But here's something that I did right.

Someone on Twitter referenced Richard Marx's "Right  Here Waiting For You:"

I had a couple of crushes in my K-8 Catholic elementary school.  The first crush led to near-daily snickers, as the teacher (~5th grade?) had us watch a show promoting reading.  The intro showed a bookworm chasing a bird.  Everyone knew that bookworm was a good analogy for me.  So day after day, the bookworm chased the bird, and the class laughed.

By junior high, I had switched to the boy that everyone considered to be the smartest boy in the class, but I tried to keep it quiet.  The closest I came to pursuing, was that when this song came on at our junior high dances, I looked for him.  Several times, several different dances, we danced to this song, and then moved on again.  Junior high dances tended to be more group dances than couples anyway.

One time, my crush already had a partner.  I was over by the table, thinking I'd have to sit this one out.  Someone else was there.  A look, a chin towards the dance floor.  Neither of us wanted to sit out and be lonely.  Neither of us were particularly interested in each other... He was cute, and smart, I probably could have gone there if he'd been interested.  Most of my classmates weren't interested in me, so that was par for the course.  We slow-danced as friends, no expectations, it was nice.

A few things have made me think of it again, most recently the song mention.  Two years ago, Mom was at home in hospice.  It was her last week, with the hospital bed out in the living room.  At one point while she was still conversing, she asked me if I was in touch with my old classmates.  I told her I was.  She wanted to know more.  You remember this boy?  He's up in New York, and married now.

There were some arguments I did NOT want to have at my mother's deathbed.  I let her assume that his husband was a woman.