Reunited

Forgive me blog, for I have lived. It has been 320 days since my last blogging. Wow. It really has been a long time since I've written. The sad part is I have all these ideas of what I want to write about, including a few unfinished passages saved on my computer. So, it's not really like I don't want to write. I do. It's just that I work on a computer all day, and when it all comes down to it, anything I really want to write about takes second fiddle to me wanting to spend time with my wife and daughter. Well… here we are together again. Writer and Reader. Literary artist and dutiful audience. Sporadic Blogger and … Glenn Fan Club Member. I'm only kidding about that last one. Nevertheless, this is an event that should be recognized. It is, after all, a reunion of sorts, and reunions have been on my mind lately…

It has been 10 years since my wife and I graduated high school. We graduated from different high schools from different towns, but yet both were in Arizona. We have each gotten our respective invitations and were thankful that they were on different weekends so we can go to each other's events. I believe I may have had a trial run of what I think mine may be like at our friends' wedding last summer. Two friends of mine, whom I've known for a good many years and attended junior high and high school with, were married. Casual acquaintances throughout those years, they didn't start dating until after high school, despite attending different colleges many states apart. They've still kept in contact with many of our high school circle of our friends while I remained friends with them on a more isolated level after voluntarily severing ties with the group 7 years prior. At the wedding, my wife and I were seated away from the table of these old comrades and aside from the occasional exchange of pleasantries and the whole "what are you up to now?" conversations from a few of the members, it was evident that we would probably not rekindle the flames of the friendships we once shared.

I've never been a fan of goodbyes. Emotional separations aside, the whole thing seems so definite and terminal. Should the opportunity ever arise where I know this would be the last time I would see a person for 7 years, or perhaps longer, I'd much rather prefer the whole, "…until we meet again". This way, it leaves things potentially a little less awkward once you do, in fact, meet again. Personally I believe that there is not often an opportunity where you wouldn't cross paths with someone you had once known. Through serendipitous circumstance, it has happened to me on more than one occasion. In fact, I had a reunion of sorts last night.

On my weekly visit to my wife at her place of business, she had previously communicated to me that some of my old co-workers were dining at the restaurant she managed. Patrons of other locations within the same company has permitted my wife the opportunity to cross their paths before, but I have yet to have the opportunity to see them since 2005. Their names are Norman and Edwin. They're brothers, a few years older than me, but during the early stages of my career, they were peers as well as colleagues. We all worked for the same company in different capacities, but we were all there with 2 others when the doors closed for the final time in the fall of 2005. Normally, Norm would take out his family to any number of restaurants in the area around his home, including the store at which my wife once worked. Due to corporate downsizing it has since closed and more recently another closed so that left Norm to take his family to a restaurant outside his usual perimeter to redeem coupons his children had received. Coincidentally, it was the night my wife was working and also the night I came to see her.

We shot the breeze like old times and it was nice to see how big Norm's son had gotten and I even got the chance to see a baby girl that I'd heard about, but never seen. But this isn't the story I want to tell you about. I want to tell you a story of a reunion that didn't happen by coincidence, but purely random chance.

In early May, before the temperatures rose and the gas prices skyrocketed, Liz and I packed up the baby in the new(ish) SUV and set out on a road trip. It was the first vacation we've taken since the baby was born last November. I called it "The Great Southwestern Road Trip" but all it really did was create a big loop between Arizona and New Mexico. Our mission was simple. Visit with friends. Show off baby. See the countryside, no matter how desolate and arid it may be. Spanning a little under a week, we saw dinosaurs in Holbrook (Ariz.), a giant roadrunner made of trash outside of Las Cruces (N.M.) and came up short on our quest for chicken at a KFC in Lordsburg, New Mexico.

On the second stop on our 3-city tour, we pulled into a Super 8 Motel in Las Cruces. At the front desk, while checking in, I was observing the local reading material provided as a service to the guests. One piece caught my eye. It was small newspaper, showcasing the latest in local events, celebrity gossip and some other stuff called "What's Up?" I took an issue with me to read later while in the motel room. Later that evening, I had just settled in for a little "me" time and opened the newspaper to read. Since I've started working at a newspaper in the advertising department, I pay attention to the advertisements before the copy. Something caught my eye though. On page 2, the inside flap, I noticed the roster of the paper. Instantly, without any particular reason, I was immediately fixated on a name. The name before "Production Manager/Graphic Artist". It was a name I recognized.

In the Southwestern United States, the name Edgar Gonzalez is not all that uncommon. The Arizona Diamondbacks have a pitcher by that name. It's a different guy because this Edgar Gonzalez was in advertising. … This Edgar was from El Paso, where this publication was produced. … This Edgar had a middle initial of "B". … This Edgar … was a friend of mine in college.

… Or at least it could be. Like I said, there are probably dozens of Edgar Gonzalez, perhaps even hundreds. I suppose the only way to find out if this was the Edgar I knew was to call him. It was past working hours, so calling him was out of the question. It'd have to wait 'till morning. And wait I did.

When I placed the call to the number in the paper and dialed his extension, I was greeted by a voicemail message. It sounded like the guy I knew, but it was hard to tell, because I hadn't spoken to him since he graduated from the Associates program 3 months before I did, in the year 2000. I left a message, bizarre as it may sound to the casual listener, much less the person receiving it if in the event it was not the Edgar I thought I knew.

A little while later, he called back. It was him! I could hardly believe it. It seemed so surreal. We talked for about 30 – 45 minutes about how I figured it out it was him, and of course, the whole "what are you up to now?" questions, but we parted with the possibility of once again, opening the lines of communication. We hadn't seen each other, much less talked since the day of his portfolio review in March of 2000 with none so much as a email address or a phone number to stay in touch. College isn't like high school, you can't scrawl "K.I.T." on yearbooks. It's a lot more difficult than that, but at the very least it's important to remember that there are people out there and whereas you may think you may never see them again, there's always the possibility you will and friendships have the opportunity to be rekindled. Goodnight, my friend. Until we meet again…

Measure of a Man's Wealth

I know it has been a while since I've posted, but my passive attempts at achieving worldwide fame have gone unnoticed and therefore unsuccessful. Nevertheless, there may be many reasons why you're reading this post. Perhaps you're the type of person who peruses blogspot.com, or perhaps while searching Google in the quest for knowledge, you click "more" to search the blogs. Almost sounds like a metaphor for life, doesn't it? How many times do we look for information and when we take it one step further to search for more, all we find is random people's opinions?

Maybe it's not any of the reasons above. It could just be that you've read some of my previous postings and you have enjoyed them enough to read this one as well. After all, if you're reading the sentence in context, I thank you for your continued support. Worldwide fame is that much closer. Taking it back a bit, the primary reason you've found yourself here is not because you're on some existential quest, but probably because you saw a link on MySpace and decided to click it. You are, after all, a friend.

Being a friend of mine, I thought I'd share with you little bit about everyone else in this community called my friends list. All 50 of you. I'm not much of one for statistics, which is why I chose to do it now. 50 is a nice round number and easy to extract percentages from it with little arithmetic. I first got this idea before I actually reached 50 friends on MySpace. Interestingly enough, there's an error in the page code where it miscounts the actual number tricking you into have more friends that you actually do. "Oh cruel fate, why do you mock me?" (Simpson, 1990) Sounds like I need to talk with certain 2% of you who can't count. Tom, I'm looking in your direction. I later discovered that this error is simply a bug in the code that counts the friends that have actually accepted you to be their friends and for whatever reason (if their account is deleted, they sever MySpace ties with you, etc.) their little avatar may go away, but they are still in the count. You have to go in and physically delete them from your list

It wasn't too long ago since (out of complete boredom) I analytically organized a list of another group of fifty to the point of even making a pie chart out of the data. It was the 50 states of the union and their corresponding two-letter postal code. If you wish to know details, it is simply this. I plotted data as to organize the postal code correlation to the full name of each state and tallied which relationship(s) said postal code fell in to. For instance, CA, California's postal code falls into the First 2 Letters category as well as the First & Last Letters category. This unique combination, held by only a few states, was enough to warrant a separate category on its own and therefore precludes it from being categorized in either of the two other categories. 5 is 2+3, and 4+1, but 5 can't be in with the 1's, 2's, 3's or 4's. Isn't that right, Tom?

I no longer have that data, but I'm sure given minimal effort I could figure it all out again. With today's technology, I could even make a new pie graph, maybe 3-D, with a drop shadow. Anyway, I've stalled long enough. Here's the real reason you're all here. I warn you. Anyone who has a phobia or a strong adversity to statistics, please leave now. Otherwise, prepared to completely bored and delve into another dark corridor that is Glenn's brain.

58% of you, my friends, are male. Simple subtraction states that 42% of you are female. 26% you attended the same high school, and coincidentally 26% have shared the same employer. Almost six years since graduating from college at AIPx, only 6% have accepted me to be your "friend". Conversely, twice as many attended ASU. The same amount attended elementary school with me as well. 16% of you and I went to jr. high together. I was in scouts with 14% of you.

I'm related to only 4% of you through blood, yet 6% of my friends are celebrities whom I've never met. MySpace is not only an excellent place for fans to communicate with their favorite celebrities, it's a place for musicians to share their talent with the rest of the world. Another 6% of you have music oriented pages. 16% of you I consider friends I've originally met through other friends but we're all friends, so that doesn't matter. And since MySpace is such a great place to keep in touch with people it allows me to keep in touch with 30% of you who no longer live in Arizona.

Despite the numbers, 100% of you, for whatever reason, agreed to be my friend. When it all comes down to it, it's not always money or worldwide fame that describes a man's treasures. It's his friends, and for that I consider myself to be very rich. Thank you.