Friday, December 10, 2004


I've been meaning to write a post about my high school days, but I keep putting it off. This is somewhat related to what I want to write, but not really. Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, it doesn't, but whatever.

I was at work tonight and running around, answering questions. I got paged over to a new banker's desk and I walked up to this girl. Here's the conversation:

A: Hi Beth.
B: Hi, you must be Asija. Nice to meet you. [I offer my hand for a handshake.]
A: You went to Fridley.
B: *Blank look.* Yes, I did.
A: I remember you.
B: Oh, you must have gone there too then.
A: Yep.
B: Were we in choir together?
A: Yes.
B: What year did you graduate?
A: '97.

This is when I realized that I probably had many classes with this woman, but I have no clue who she was back then. I don't remember her AT ALL. But she remembers me.

This is not the first time I've run into someone from high school and they remembered me and I didn't know who they were. It's not that I'm bad with names or faces, in fact, I'm fairly good at remembering people. There are just some people from high school who seem to have known me and I can't remember ever having a conversation with them. I feel bad for not knowing them, but then I feel a little validated. Like I meant something to someone. Kind of odd, but kind of cool.

I don't know if I shared this story or not, but I will, since I'm on the topic of school days.

During my first year of college, I received an email from a boy named Andre. His email was intriguing, so I replied. Here's the e-conversation:

A: Hi, I looked at your profile and I see you are named Beth and went to Fridley. Were you in such and such's afternoon kindergarten class?
B: Hello, yes, I was. Do I know you?
A: I wanted to find you and thank you. I went to Fridley for one year and the only person I remember is a young girl named Beth. See, I am Asian and all the kids picked on me. She always stood up for me and wouldn't let the others make fun of me because I didn't speak English as well as they did. Are you her?
B: Um, yes, that was me. I remember you. I didn't remember that you had troubles with English, just that I wanted to make the shy boy feel comfortable and play with the group.
A: Thank you. I will always remember the nice girl who helped me and stood up for me.

That was the end of the conversation, but I felt good about it. I do remember this young boy, so nice but so quiet. It honestly never crossed my mind that he didn't speak the same language, I just thought he was shy. He was nice though and I would invite him to play games with my friends and I tried to include him. I was a little more of the social butterfly when I was little though.

About my desire to make friends, my mom likes this story.

Spoken in my mom's voice:

One day I hear Beth outside the window, talking and talking. I thought maybe she was just telling herself a story and then I heard a man's voice. I was surprised and so I looked out the window. There was Beth and the garbage man. She had engaged him in a long conversation. She was three years old and had a fifteen minute conversation with the garbage man. She told him all about the dog and about her Barbie's. She even asked him about his job. At least she has no problems making friends.

This post strayed from the original topic, but it's just a little of who I was as a child. I sometimes wonder if I'm still the same inside or if life has changed me. Is it nature or nurture?


At 8:51 AM, The Lioness said...

Beth, see why I adore you? And you were like this as a kid already! Never worry, when I was 9 my y mum arrived home one afternoon to find the house packed w gipsy kids, I'd decided they needed to be fed. The housekeeper was hovering, trying to make sure nothing was stolen and almost had a heart attack. My mum as well, these were tough kids. Come to think of it, I think some of them had beaten me or did later on, they were pretty, well, rough. I also brought home dead animals - snakes mostly - to heal them. And was always sick. What a shitty kid I was!

Anyway, see why the bubble-bursting is a must? HOW ELSE are you going to find your adorable match? V v cool post! VERY!

At 8:53 AM, The Lioness said...

Bloody hell, daft of me: I'd say nature has LOADS to do with it, but nurturing can't have harmed none. But I say you were pretty much who you are now. People never give genes enough credit and yet biology rules us to an amazing degree. I suppose it's easier to think there's AL WHOLE LOT we can do about it. We can, but to a much smaller degree than we's be comfortable with.

At 10:00 PM, rod said...

My first born is exactly like me. In some ways, even I think that is good, but in other ways, I hope he can do something about it.
Mainly, we're introverted and have a very hard time with nonsense, casual conversation - or even starting a conversation period. But if you start it, we can ramble on for hours. My son, Jack, has always been very conversant with adults, even when he was 3 years old, and as a result, adults have always enjoyed him and never talked childish with him. So when the two of us are together, we just act stupid to make up for all the seriousness.

At 6:09 AM, CarpeDM said...

Well, of course she remembers you. You're the coolest person ever.