Be careful what you wish for

I was in high school and sitting around at Alvino’s, knocking back some slices with the guys. I could probably start a hundred stories like that, but this one comes to mind because of a recent communication.

It was a little unusual in that it exceeded our usual range of intellectual topics; girls, sports and cars. We were approaching graduation and speculating on life paths. Jeff wiped the grease off his lips with the sleeve of his varsity jacket (not the first time, if stains are valid indicators) and threw out, “If you could switch places with anyone in our class, who would it be?”

The vast majority of responses favored two candidates, depending upon priority. If it was athletics, Jimmy C. He lettered and starred in everything you could name and already had the frame of a professional athlete. He also had the ego and sense of entitlement of one, which was his undoing. But, I seem to recall blogging on that a few years back.

I’d like to say the other guy was one of the brains in the class, but we were what we were. What can I say?

Stan was also an athlete; a gymnast. He was totally buff and had Tom Cruise looks with the panache to match. This made the legend of his many conquests very credible, which earned him the votes in this cerebral discussion.

Among those, and what buoyed his ranking, was Gwen. Being one of the most developed of the wasp-waisted girls in the class, she was deemed the Holy Grail of back seat grappling. Size mattered then although I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to see her coming out of the shower, now. But, back in the day, she was more than enough reason to want to swap places with Stan.

I hadn’t seen Stan since graduation when he contacted me via the web several years ago. He went on at length about leading the glamorous southern California lifestyle, especially in regard to the opposite sex. When you’re good at something, go with it. He emailed a photo of himself to show me he was still as cut as ever, I suppose. It was obviously a professional studio shot, although he wore a tank top and jeans. A bit odd, I thought.

We exchanged a few messages over a month or so, but then it petered out. Until yesterday.

He found me on the web once again, but was less effusive about what he was up to. I noted he had relocated to a much less enchanting locale and asked him about that. His sister lived there and was taking care of him. He had gone blind shortly after the last time we corresponded.

I thought back to that day in Alvino’s and wondered if anyone would’ve switched places with him had they known what the future held. Be careful what you wish for.