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Our small world
Aug. 6th, 2019 11:58 pmHere's the story I promised a few days ago, now that I'm certain of it. Between the ages of 12 and 19, I lived in the same general community where I live now. Back when I started high school, I immediately joined the chess club, having enjoyed the chess club in junior high. I was cautioned, though, that our team couldn't possibly live up to its predecessors - two years previously, they'd gone to Nationals, and the previous year the top player had done exceptionally well, finishing second in State or some such. This legendary guy, who had graduated before I'd arrived, had an unremarkable English name which I knew at the time, but the years went by.
So, last week we were interviewing the top two candidates for a position in the youth orchestras, one of whom was an internal candidate, a quiet and patient fellow I'd known for the past four years as one of our top local cellists. Over the years I'd had some great conversations with his wife, a lovely kindergarten teacher, and at one point he gave me a CD of his own compositions. I'd looked up another candidate on Facebook, and our director suggested I look up this one as well, to be fair. I said, "But I already know him!"... but later I looked him up anyway. And it's obvious where this story is going. On Facebook I discovered that the cellist had gone to my high school, and we had several friends in common who'd also attended that high school, and when our director mentioned that this guy was her own age, a few years older than me, it suddenly clicked, "Our D--- B------ is THE D--- B------!" I messaged two of our mutual friends to check (although one didn't remember and the other didn't reply). Then I found his yearbook online with a multi-page account of their trip to New York City for Nationals (finishing 12th), and yes, it was him. Yesterday I e-mailed him, and he wrote back to confirm it. Ha ha ha!
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So, last week we were interviewing the top two candidates for a position in the youth orchestras, one of whom was an internal candidate, a quiet and patient fellow I'd known for the past four years as one of our top local cellists. Over the years I'd had some great conversations with his wife, a lovely kindergarten teacher, and at one point he gave me a CD of his own compositions. I'd looked up another candidate on Facebook, and our director suggested I look up this one as well, to be fair. I said, "But I already know him!"... but later I looked him up anyway. And it's obvious where this story is going. On Facebook I discovered that the cellist had gone to my high school, and we had several friends in common who'd also attended that high school, and when our director mentioned that this guy was her own age, a few years older than me, it suddenly clicked, "Our D--- B------ is THE D--- B------!" I messaged two of our mutual friends to check (although one didn't remember and the other didn't reply). Then I found his yearbook online with a multi-page account of their trip to New York City for Nationals (finishing 12th), and yes, it was him. Yesterday I e-mailed him, and he wrote back to confirm it. Ha ha ha!
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