Please, please, a-please please?

When I heard “Straight Up” this morning, I immediately did two things: perked up a bit (a welcome feeling, since Jr got me up at 5 a.m.), and then thought of a boy from high school.

As I listened, I realized that it’s actually Paula’s “Cold Hearted” that makes me think of the boy. But I’m going to proceed anyway, because either way it’s a ridiculous association.

This boy was a very tall, very smart boy who hailed from a family of very tall, very smart boys. He was forever tops in our class, and unfailingly kind and gentlemanly, and by all appearances entirely straight-laced. He was quiet, a lot of the time, but had a wicked sense of humor and a completely surprising giggle.

His brains and quiet got him picked on sometimes, even by we fellow eggheads, but I think there was always a sense of respect that told that scoffing to shut up and go sit in the corner. That happened in a very literal way when this boy asked me to march with him at our high school graduation. The pairing off of marchers ahead of graduation was akin to finding a prom date, in a weird way — there was lots of social pressure and whispering and so forth. I have this vague memory that when he asked me I ran out of the classroom laughing, went to the bathroom, then came back and very earnestly told him I’d be glad to. I certainly hope it didn’t happen that way.

The boy also ran track, and — alert, this is where the post is mildly relevant — one day on the bus on the way to a meet he delivered a very prim and proper version of “Cold Hearted” that still makes me laugh, all these years later.

And speaking of years later … at our ten-year high-school reunion, an event about which TGOTS and I haven’t written much, if anything, this boy had turned into a balding man. He was one of the first people I saw, and I was in reunion shock, and I blurted out, “You’re bald!” We spent a few minutes chatting, but that was difficult to recover from.

All this, plus the vague knowledge that his family life was touched by tragedy at least once and maybe more, leaves me with a feeling of warm concern, fondness, and mild shame. To be honest, I don’t know that we’d have that much to say to each other if we had the chance. But wherever he is, I hope he’s doing OK. And I hope once in a while he still busts out with a Paula Abdul impersonation.

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