Complex Numbers

Blast from the Past

I met my friend Pat when I was in 8th grade and he was in 7th. As I recall, we both had it for the same girl: Karen. I think he actually succeeded in hanging out with her more than I did, the bastard.

In high school, though we were in different grades, we were always doing the same stuff, and once I got a car I'd give him rides to school. After he graduated, we took a couple weeks and went to Florida the long way. There's a picture of us, I think from Jacksonville, and damn we look young. I'm going to see if I can find it again and scan it in.

Pat ended up pursuing a journalism career; I went into engineering. For a while we lived in the same house when he had a job with a local paper, and then he left. We kept in sporadic touch. He married an older woman with a kid, and so became stepdad to a teenager. I never had kids. He moved around the country, from Missouri to Florida to Arkansas; I stayed in one place. He's one of the few people, and the only guy, from my school days that I've managed to keep in touch with, and that's mostly through his efforts.

But now Pat got a job with the Charlottesville newspaper, and he's on his way back here for the foreseeable future.

He and I are different - he's a conservative; I lean liberal, though I tend to be conservative in economic matters. He has a kid of his own now. But we've known each other for a long time, and we both drink - and that has to count for something.