My Very First Best Friend - Part 1

I have a confession to make: from time to time, I find myself on the computer and an old friend I grew up with will run across my mind and I'll Google them.

Such was the case over the weekend.

[Name Redacted] ran across my mind. He was my very first best friend. We went to school together from kindergarten all the way to the eighth grade. He would pick me up every morning like clockwork and we would walk to and from school together. Looking back, I often wonder what drew the two of us together. Aside from us both being in the gifted and talented program in school, we were two very different people.

I was an artsy, smart-mouthed, sassy class clown. And [Name Redacted] was a popular, laid-back jock. Around the way, he was known as "Little Mac" because, despite being short and skinny, he would knock you down flat on your ass in a game of football.

But once we graduated from junior high school, I went on to one high school and he went on to another and we lost contact and never saw or spoke to each other again.

So, over the weekend, I was messaging back and forth with some other guys I went to elementary with and his name came up. I wondered what he was up to. Did he still live in New Jersey? Was he married? Did he have any kids?  Was he still alive?

I Googled him: Nothing came up.
I searched for him on Facebook: No profile.
I looked for him on Twitter: No account.

Then it dawned on me: check the New Jersey offender search page.

I typed in his name - and there he was.

Sigh.

Right below his picture was a lengthy rap sheet that showed he was serving a five-year sentence for multiple counts of drug possession.

Damn.

My heart sank.

Dude had such a bright future. He was smart as hell! Always scored high on standardized tests. Always brought home straight A's. Always went to school bright and early everyday. What happened?

I know. I know. Grades and high scores don't mean anything. Life happens.  I get it.  But I still find it fascinating how one minute two people can live in the same neighborhood and be on the same path and then, just like that, they make different choices and end up living two completely different lives.

I took a deep breath, located his prison and I've decided that I'm going to write to him.

I don't know what I'm going to say.  But I feel like I've got to say something.

If I had found him on Facebook or Twitter, I would have sent him a message or a friend request. So, why shouldn't I still reach out to him if I know where to find him?

As cliche as the saying is and as much as I hate hearing it, everything does happen for a reason. What if no one is writing to him?  What if he needs someone to vent to?  What if he just needs to know that somebody cares?

I guess I'll start off by saying hello,  asking him how he's doing and if he remembers me.

Once we get over that hurdle, I'll ask him if it's okay for me to share our correspondence on my blog.  Until then, I'll respect his privacy. But either way, I'll definitely let you know what happens.

We haven't spoken in over 16 years. This should be interesting.

To Be Continued...