The Last Race

There I go again, being "afk" for long periods of time. It's because I spend so much time researching, that, you know, I just don't have the excess time to post... right.

No politics today, just the realization of life creeping upon me. And by that, I mean a blast from the past recently dying and making the news while doing so. Not in a "shoot-out at local school" sort of way. But rather, in a prevalent manner which is all too akin to where I grew up; at the coast.

I grew up in a small town. Sure, we all pretty much say that, and maybe we pine for pity points with such exclamations, but I graduated high school with 35 other kids. True, it was the smallest graduating class since the 1950s in that school, and true, we started out our senior year with 42 kids, but that half-dozen dropped out for greener pastures. So, in our student body of 250 kids, our small class never won any Spirit Awards because all the other classes were more than twice our size. Hated Spirit week, except for getting to wear hats for one week of the school year.

I went to 4 different grade schools growing up. At the second to last one I met a semi-bratty child named Steve. who was in the 5th grade just like me, but in another class. The reason we knew each other is that his mom was our Den Leader for Webelos Scouts. So we spent a lot of time together. Even then he had a size complex -- a Napoleon in training -- and that would be his issue for the rest of his short life.

During the Pine Wood Derby, he totally trashed my car's design saying it was going to lose. His was this flat, uninspiring gold wedge, while I carved this tall car with a tail fin and ornate flames painted on the side. He had hollowed out the bottom for the 5oz of lead filler, and I opted to have the lead in the front of the car to represent exhaust pipes coming from the engine. Fancy that, the championship race came down to his and my car, and Mr. Trashy-talkie took the long walk home, thank-you-very-much! Of course, it was the cheap year for Pine Wood Derby racing, so instead of a trophy or neat metal, I got a blue ribbon.

After that, I moved further north and into a different school, and lo and behold, Steve shows up one day and we go through high school together. I could get a long with him fine enough, we were friendly towards each other, didn't hang out together, but we hung out with the same people and he seriously dated a friend for years. Uh, not entirely sure if he actually graduated. Hmm.

Well anyway, the point is that after high school, I left the area and hardly maintained contact with any of my fellow graduates. We didn't even have a 10 year reunion. I heard mention that a handful got together and got drunk at the beach, but then this last summer we had a 15 year reunion, and nearly 1/3 came! Yeah, so 11 people showed up. Steve wasn't one of them. Too bad, as I was willing to remind him of the Pine Wood Derby back in the late `80s.

Then, later week, via Facebook (through my wife's account) a post stated that they were still looking for Steve. Apparently he was working on a crabbing vessel when he got tangled in some line that scooped him over board. He was found a few hours later, drowned in the mouth of the Columbia River. There are over 2000 ship wrecks in that area for ~150 years of record-keeping, and half as many claimed lives. It is a treacherous terrain with huge swells and nasty undercurrents. He was aged 32, accordingly. He was a small snip-it in the evening news, an unfortunately segue between other pressing stories. They didn't mention anything about his untenuous Webelos claims on Pine Wood Derby designs (not giving that up just yet...).

This wasn't the first tragedy to befall my small school compatriots. A few years ago Casey was shot through the neck in a drug deal gone sour. While discussing this with one school mate, Casey had made a lot of people miserable, and now lives as a quadriplegic in a special home. You kinda new that would be his fate, or something similar. I didn't feel that strongly about Steve, but I figured at least some highlight of probation therein, since he didn't join the military straight out of high school (7 classmates did, or rather, 1/5 of them).

So there it is, one classmate down, one in a wheel chair, and most of them having had divorces of those that got married. Maybe there was something in the water up there. I wish I had more statistics on my small class, perhaps I could compile some information, see an apparent algorithm and thus warn them all of impending doom. Now that's pessimism, but honestly, for a class this small, they shouldn't be dying off just yet.

I can't say that I will miss Steve, but I would have liked to see him again. If only to say something about my stupid blue ribbon of worth from a cheap Pine Wood Derby year.