I spent over an hour yesterday on the computer looking for a missing person. It was a gorgeous afternoon and I parked myself in front of a keyboard and a monitor.
Yesterday I chalked about the “Table of Death,” which I should have probably just called a memorial table.
The table had a place for the first guy who passed away within a couple years after graduation day. Concluding with the kid who died last month.
But someone quietly mentioned that a classmate was missing. We all looked at each other dumbfounded.
“How the fuck could we let a classmate die and not know about it?”
I had so many things to digest on my northbound drive up I-65 yesterday morning….
…. And I kept going back to the classmate that died and didn’t have a spot on the memorial table.
So I spent a part of my Sunday afternoon finding out what happened. I’ve gotten pretty good at finding information quickly with that Google thing and a couple other search tools on that internet deal.
Our classmate’s death was mentioned in a 2020 addition of our high school highlight periodical. It was in small print under a kid from the class one year ahead of ours. I knew he died. He was an outgoing guy that spoke Spanish and became a priest.
Again…. How the fuck did we not know?
I’ll admit that the name sounded somewhat familiar and I had to get home and grab my yearbook to fill in the blanks.
I couldn’t find a detailed obituary, but I did find out our classmate lived in Florida at the end of their life.
Maybe the point of my search party was to get some closure and make sure we can honor the missing person at the fiftieth reunion,
BUTT (that’s the Shepley big but),
I wanted to find a lifetime that belonged to the person that went unnoticed.
I have a soft spot in my heart for all of the Eleanor Rigby’s of the world. I cherish my alone time, but fear the darkness of being lonely.
Saying that…. I needed to find out if our missing classmate died picking up the rice at the church where the wedding had been.
Maybe our classmate wanted to hide from the past? I spent years hiding from some of the people that I just hung out with this last weekend.
The death notice was in 2020. It could have been that fucking Covid.
Or what us foul mouthed, politically incorrect pricks call The China Flu.
I’m going to keep on Dick Tracy’ing this cold case and properly honor our classmate that didn’t have a spot on The Table of Death.
Through our remaining years, less people will be wearing name tags and more people will have a portrait on a memorial table.
Name tags and memorial tables… sounds like a John Prine song.
Let’s get out and enjoy Monday, the 12th of August. Sunrises are getting later and later as we approach Labor Day.
Our Jewish friends have a solemn day of fasting, no laughing and no sex today. So cut them a break if they seem to be grumpy.
Go be astonished and make sure you listen to Father McKenzie’s sermon next Sunday.
