***Out In The 2010s Be-Bop Night- A Simple Twist Of Fate

 

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman, Hullsville High School Class of 1964

As is well-known Peter Paul Markin (just Markin hereafter and not that Mayfair swell three name stuff like he was the Duke Of York or something) is my old friend from the days down at the Starlight Ballroom in Hullsville in 1964. We had met there shortly after graduating from our respective high schools at the weekly rock and roll dances held there every Friday night. Strangely we met and became friends after pursuing the same girl who eventually dumped us both but our friend outlasted that bout of competition (there would be others). Recently he called me with a bizarre story. A story that he knew would intrigue me, and force me to write about it. And he was right although he should have written the thing himself since it involved him, him and his seemingly eternity memory lane longings.

Now you have to know a little bit about Markin, about his attitudes toward things like mysticism, fate, kismet, the unknown and all of that to appreciate that he does not truck with any of that stuff. He fancies himself a man of science, or at least of there being rational explanations for things and this is why the information that he imparted to me baffled him. Me, I am more agnostic about such things but this one did have me scratching my head a little so I might as well get to it. 

The year 2014 will be a milestone for Markin (and me as well) marking the 50^th anniversary of his (our) graduation from high school, in his case  North Adamsville High School about twenty miles up the road from Hullsville. For a whole number of reasons that should not detain us here Markin had been looking forward to that event for a couple of years in the expectation of going to his class reunion (not me though, looking forward to or going ). He had never gone to any before for those whole bunch of reasons. Moreover he had actively attempted to put himself into the mix by setting up a class reunion event on Facebook (thus mercy thanks FB because this story could not have developed, could not have been possible, without that social network outlet). What he was doing at that point was making an ad hoc attempt to enlist fellow classmates to help organize the reunion.  He got the usual early sparse response and then the response that triggers this sketch.

A woman, Jill Gary, a fellow classmate commented that she was interested in helping out but due her professional career commitments would not be able to do much. Also she lived up in Maine and since the reunion would be held in Massachusetts that too would be a barrier. In any case Markin, looking to find some kindred help, began a blizzard of e-mail traffic with her. It seems that this Jill was what they now call “hot” back in the day, a real looker, as a look at her year book picture testified to that Markin had forwarded to me, a fresh dewy girl next door type who wore cashmere sweaters and who by popular opinion (boys’ locker room after sports opinion) was unapproachable. In any case Markin had seen her around school but that was about it.   

Well some things change in this wicked old world, some things are not eternally etched in stone and Jill like all of us from the Generation of ’68  has learned a thing or two had been through her share of ups and downs and survived to tell about it. Naturally Markin was all ears to hear about this life if for no other reason that he could say that he had actually talked to her, even at a fifty year remove, for some such reason which only Markin is privy to. And so the blizzard of e-mails continued (she almost as crazy as him to write, write, write).

One exchange, the one that matters here, involved the question of where they had gone to elementary school she to Adamsville North and he to Adamsville South. That Adamsville South response by Markin brought out the fact that Jill’s mother had been a swimming instructor down at the Adamsville South Beach and had during her career there saved a drowning boy. Jill, nine at the time, had been present at the event.

Markin said he flipped out when he heard that information. See, and I remember him telling me one time about his (our) love of the ocean but fear of it, fear to go too far out when swimming because he had almost drowned when he was nine down at the Adamsville South Beach one summer. Typical boy story: as the ocean was rising he had spied a log, an abandoned telephone pole, and had grabbed onto it. He drifted out for a while and then, as he said sheepishly, he realized he had gone too far but instead of holding onto the log he decided to try and swim for shore. Not a good swimmer and just too far out he started going down. His brother who was on the shore called for help and the swimming instructor came out and saved him in a nick of time.

So what lesson does Markin draw from that today. Anything about fate, karma, or just plain good luck. No. He tells Jill that since they had already “met” maybe they should get together and discuss the matter more fully. And guess what, she agreed. Jesus.