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I’m fast approaching the three year mark of walking at least 10,000 steps every day, even on days when I travel and it is otherwise difficult.
A small celebration will occur when appropriate.
Many of my steps – I dare say close to most – have been accompanied by podcasts. Given that it’s probably been over a decade since I last listed what podcasts I listen to… here I go with what I currently listen to while walking – in alphabetical order, as show in my podcast app, Podcast Addict.
99% Invisible – This is one of my favorite podcasts. The program is about every day design and how it affects our lives. This podcast is excellent because it brings to the fore things that often are overlooked because it blends into the background. Five Stars, highly recommended.
Airline Voices – I’m not sure if this podcast is active any more, but the feed has first person stories from people in the aviation industry about their experiences on 9/11. The podcast arrived last year on the twentieth anniversary of the terror attack and comprises a number of thought provoking talks about what people were doing on that day and how it affected them. Five Stars, highly recommended.
Bad Gays – I discovered this podcast a few months ago, thanks to an article in The Guardian about their then forthcoming (now published) book, Bad Gays. Comprising an American living in Berlin and a Brit in the UK, this podcasts painfully dissects the lives of individuals throughout history who were gay (or on the spectrum) and whether or not they were bad gays. The podcast is super educational, but the hosts come at it with an extreme far left perspective that can be, at times, too liberal for my tastes. There are also an amazing number of caveats scattered throughout the episodes because they are too unwilling to take a stand and call somebody who was alive before the modern gay era, gay – because, well… because. Four Stars, recommended.
Betty in the Sky with a Suitcase – I’ve been listening to this podcast for a very long time. Betty is a flight attendant for a major US carrier – one that is a “Team” player; though she will not say this explicitly. The podcast comprises stories about work as a flight attendant, often featuring her coworkers. It also includes stories about her own travels, often to obscure places that I would love to visit. Five Stars, highly recommended.
CBC World at Six – The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s World at Six is one of the podcasts I’ve been listening to the longest. Normally I listen to the Pacific version of the news, which is “live” between 0300 and 0330 in Germany – when I listen to it while going to work it is still fresh and relevant. CBC has a great capacity to tell world headlines, important US stories, and, of course, Canadian News. I know more about events in Canada that I should. Five Stars, highly recommended.
Cranky Talk – This is a weekly podcast covering the aviation industry. Most episodes are pretty short and the coverage is rarely in-depth, but rather it gives an overview of a topic. Sometimes there are exceptionally good episodes, so this is a matter of sometimes winning the content lottery. Four Stars, recommended.
Sarina Bowen First Chapters – I’m a huge fan of Sarina Bowen’s books – and sometimes she releases first chapters of the audio books on this feed, so I can hear the chapters before the books are published. Sarina is one of a few authors whose books I will buy without question, without even having read a summary of the book. I admire the amount of research and care that goes into her writing. That said, audio books are not my thing and this feed is rarely updated. Three Stars, excellent choice if you like her books.
Gay Pulp – Oh. My. God. This podcast consists of books from the 1950s, 60s, and 70s being read aloud – but not just any books, the paperbound porn novels that were terribly written. Generally speaking, I am a HUGE FAN of this podcast. Books are typically unintentionally hilarious and wonderful. However—the current book, Queen’s Castle, by Remi Caruthers, is not really striking a chord with me. Gay Whore, To Want a Boy, Summer in Sodom, Queer Pen, Buffy ad the Holy Quest, and Glory Hole all enraptured me. This isn’t something for the innocent (unless they want to be corrupted): Five Stars, highly recommended – except for the current book.
Lost Highways – This is a podcast by History Colorado that comprises very well researched stories from Colorado’s history. The podcast is, perhaps, a bit less regularly published than I would like / hope, but that’s fine. If you’re from Colorado or care about Colorado’s history, this is a great podcast. Five Stars, highly recommended.
Murdaugh Murders Podcast – If you’re a fan of true crime, this is a worthwhile podcast. The crimes it is investigating are not yet solved. This is real time coverage of ongoing criminal investigations in South Carolina. The research is high quality, but the dramatic presentation tries to oversell the importance of the journalism. That said, I’m not from South Carolina and its corrupt judicial system doesn’t (normally) directly affect me. Four Stars, recommended.
Radio Spätkauf (“Get Help Berlin” on the grid) – this is “Berlin News in English.” Generally speaking, it’s published once a month and provides an English language overview of news in Berlin and, sometimes, in Germany. They occasionally do deep dives into specific topics – which is how I found them. Their series, “How to Fuck-Up an Airport” is decently researched and provides a decent overview of how we ended up with Berlin Brandenburg International Airport instead of something decent. However, the hosts are very liberal and want things that I do not want. There are also elements of naivety in their coverage. If you live in Berlin, it’s a five star program worth listening to. Otherwise, two stars.
RadioLab – This is a famous science podcast that, I think it is fair to say, revolutionized how science stories are told in an audio format. Unfortunately, now that the two original hosts have retired, the podcast seems to be focusing on how to raise money for WNYC, its host radio station. Historically this podcast was excellent, I feel like it has jumped the shark, but I still keep giving it chances. I probably should drop it. Two stars, it survives because of its history.
Rumble Strip – This is a Vermont focused podcast. I don’t have much of a Vermont history to speak of, but I find the podcast charming and fun to listen to. Four Stars, recommended.
State of Belief – I’m not religious. Far from it. However, this program provides a liberal-religious take on US politics every week. The content is well thought out and provides a depth of knowledge that I would probably otherwise never consider. Four Stars, recommended.
Stuff the British Stole – This Australian based podcast investigates things that the British Stole throughout history, talking about the consequences of this theft. The research is top notch and the stories engaging. I hope new episodes come out soon. Five Stars, highly recommended.
Taskmaster The Podcast – I am a Taskmaster addict. I love the TV show very much. This podcast discusses the current UK series or, when there isn’t a current UK series, past UK series. If you’re not a Taskmaster fan, then this podcast will not be worth listening to. Ed Gamble is a terrific host. If you adore Taskmaster, then this is easy: Five Stars, highly recommended.
Taskmaster: The People’s Podcast – this is a second podcast about the UK Taskmaster, but it is the weaker of the two. Lou Sanders, the host, is not my favorite contestant and I’m not a huge fan of how she hosts the show. However, I love Taskmaster, so… uh… I listen. Three Stars; only for hardcore Taskmaster fans.
The Atlas Obscura Podcast – The Atlas Obscura website is a terrific way to find obscure, funky sites while traveling. Four days a week, there’s a new episode that explores something interesting. Friday is a repeat from the back catalog. Five Stars, highly recommended.
The Big Ponder – This is a German-USA podcast that takes dives into topics of interest in both places. The range is eclectic and you never know what the next episode will be about. Four Stars, recommended.
The Horne Section – Alex Horne, the Horne in the Horne Section, is why I discovered this podcast. He, like me, doesn’t have a musical note in his body, but he does have a band. The episodes are usually excellent, but… alas, Alex Horne is a very busy man: he is the Taskmaster’s Assistant, so there hasn’t been a new episode of the Horne Section in a very, very, long time. Five Stars, highly recommended.
The Modern West – Wyoming Public Radio puts out this series which covers life in the rural, modern, west. Topics are diverse, the research is excellent, and the voices diverse. Five Stars, highly recommended.
This American Life – This is an old favorite. Though, I think it might no longer speak to me because I am not enjoying the new episodes as much as I used to. Four Stars, recommended.
Welcome to Provincetown – The first season just finished – this is a take on life in Provincetown, Massachusetts, in the summer. I’ve never been, but apparently, the city is incredibly gay. I enjoyed listening to the podcast, but I have to confess that, as a misanthropic, introverted gay, Provincetown sounds more like a nightmare. Four Stars, recommended.
What Roman Mars Can Learn About Con Law – Formerly “What Trump can teach us about Con Law,” this is a monthly podcast where Roman Mars hosts a discussion with Elizabeth Jon, a Constitutional Law Professor, to discuss recent news with respect to constitutional law. Started in response to the nightmare that was Donald Trump, the program continues today. Five Stars, highly recommended.
I moved across Berlin back in September 2020 – thankfully during a “pause” of sort in the pandemic. Despite having been around a large number of people who were instrumental in my successful move (movers, my handyman, people installing lots of stuff), I managed to not get Corona.
Success!
… and I still have not had Corona (as far as I know).
While I love my new home, with more space, a guest bedroom, in-floor heating, and surrounded by parks – I sometimes pause and reflect on my old home in Schöneberg.
For, with the exception of Frau Covfefe upstairs, my old home was excellent.
Steps from my front door were excellent restaurants of many stripes: Indian, German, cafes, Vietnamese, Italian, bakeries, and more. There’s no way I could do justice in listing all the amazing restaurants in Schöneberg.
When it comes to my new home, I have a nice biergarten in a nearby park and a couple of places that I am willing to go back to, if you know what I mean. When using food delivery apps, I’ve found one decent American-esque pizza restaurant and a burger restaurant. I’ve also discovered that most delivery pizza to my new home is terrible and makes Domino’s look outstanding.
In Schöneberg I lived near the gayborhood; there is no gayborhood anywhere near where I live now: I now have parks and old-(for Berlin)-growth trees in several large parks. Sitting at my dining table, I look out the window and see (right now) leafy trees with a couple of taller (e.g. 7 or 8 story) apartment buildings poking up.
I guess I am a bit bittersweet: I miss Schöneberg but I love my new home. I do not miss Frau Covfefe, I do miss the restaurants.
Though come to think of it, I’ve never really described Frau Covfefe.
Some other time.
One of my family’s stories involves a very young Adam – but considering that I do not remember the story, I would presume it happened in the 1970s, roughly speaking.
We’d taken a family trip to Oregon – which is where my maternal grandmother lived. My maternal grandfather died before I was born.
I have no idea where we went on that trip, but evidently we drove a lot of places, seeing Fred Meyer everywhere.
For those of you unfamiliar with Fred Meyer, it’s a chain of grocery stores that pretty well blankets Oregon and other parts of the Pacific Northwest. Back then it was independent, today it’s part of the Kroger family.
At some point we pulled into Salem and looked at the state capital building.
Atop the building is a golden man – quite striking.
One of my siblings asked the question, “Who is on top of the state capital?”
I knew the answer: Fred Meyer.
 At my new home, this piece of art no longer hangs directly in view from my working position – so it is no longer something I stare at continuously.
I previously featured 38 Days in my blogpost Whatchamacallit 152.
Now I see it whenever I leave my bedroom.
It still resonates, as a testimony to the 38 days it took Ahmed Alali to travel from Damascus to Berlin back in 2015.
The world is a vastly different place today – having experienced a pandemic and now, alas, another war. This time the war is significantly closer and many refugees are coming straight through Poland to Berlin, making Berlin their first stop. The last numbers I saw suggest that right now at least 10,000 refugees are arriving every single day, taking the train from Ukraine to Berlin. Many move on to points beyond Berlin, but a substantial number are just happy to be here.
I’m thrilled that I live in a city that is so welcoming, able to absorb and help so many people.
Yesterday, while standing on a train platform, I spotted a Ukrainian flag flying proudly above a nearby garden plot.
Wir schaffen das.
Matthew Shepard died 23 years ago today. 
Another year has ticked by.
Another moment to pause and reflect on Matthew Shepard.
One remarkable thing about Matthew Shepard is that he continues to be present in society – I was scrolling through Facebook last week and I noticed that Indiana University Credit Union (my primary bank in America) is sponsoring the Bloomington Chamber Singers.
Their concert last weekend?
Considering Matthew Shepard
In October of 1998, Matthew Shepard, a young, gay student at the University of Wyoming in Laramie was kidnapped, severely beaten, tied to a fence and left to die in a lonely field under a blanket of stars. Five days later, when Matt passed away, the world was watching. Approaching the eve of the 20th anniversary, Craig Hella Johnson has responded with his first concert-length work, Considering Matthew Shepard.
Led from the piano by Johnson, Considering Matthew Shepard showcases the award-winning artistry of Conspirare’s singers with a chamber ensemble of renowned instrumentalists. This three-part fusion oratorio speaks with a fresh and bold voice, incorporating a variety of musical styles seamlessly woven into a unified whole. Johnson sets a wide range of poetic and soulful texts by poets including Hildegard of Bingen, Lesléa Newman, Michael Dennis Browne, and Rumi. Passages from Matt’s personal journal, interviews and writings from his parents Judy and Dennis Shepard, newspaper reports and additional texts by Johnson and Browne are poignantly appointed throughout the work.
Considering Matthew Shepard debuted at #4 on Billboard’s Traditional Classical Chart after Harmonia Mundi released the 2-CD Set recording in mid-September, 2016. Album page Audiences describe this work as “brilliant,” “powerful,” “innovative,” “dazzling,” and “gripping.” The Bay Area Reporter wrote “it has the richness, depth and complexity to compel repeated hearing, and the power to get you the first time out,” and from the The Washington Post: “’Considering Matthew Shepard’” demonstrates music’s capacity to encompass, transform and transcend tragedy. Powerfully cathartic, it leads us from horror and grief to a higher understanding of the human condition, enabling us to endure.”
Considering Matthew Shepard joins the ranks of many significant artistic responses to Matthew Shepard’s legacy. Most noteworthy is The Laramie Project by Moises Kaufman and the Members of the Tectonic Theater Project, which has been seen by more than 30 million people. Jason Marsden, Executive Director of the Matthew Shepard Foundation calls Considering Matthew Shepard “by far the most intricate, beautiful and unyielding artistic response to this notorious anti-gay hate crime.”
Matthew Shepard’s story must never be forgotten.
The fact that Matthew continues to be remembered so vividly, so brilliantly, and in so many ways is remarkable.
Yet at my core, what I remember is my visceral reaction to the initial shock, the out of body feeling – crawling into my closet at home in Bloomington and crying.
R.I.P. Matthew “Matt” Wayne Shepard – *December 1, 1976; †October 12, 1998
For historical reference, see 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020 or any of the many times he’s been mentioned on my blog via a search for Matthew Shepard.
I’m fresh back from a trip to the USA, where paranoia about Covid is on a whole different level from Germany. Excluding Monroe County, Indiana, only three shops enforced a mask mandate: REI Fort Collins, REI Denver, and an art gallery on the court house square in Spencer, Indiana.
In some shops I was the only person wearing a mask.
However, that’s not what I want to babble about here.
Rather, I noticed on this trip that despite the fact that I vote in Indiana and maintain some aspects of my life in Bloomington, Indiana, ultimately I really do not care about the state. There is no emotional bond with my Hoosier brethren, no need to sign “Back Home Again” as I walk off the jetway into a humid and hot Indianapolis.
I arrived late on a Thursday evening, drove to a nearby hotel, and fell asleep as soon as I lay down in bed. The next morning I got up early and drove down to Bloomington – a brief stop where I met a friend for breakfast at the IHOP (which used to be Long John Silver’s) across from the Dunkin’ Donuts (which used to be a Steak ‘n Shake and, before that, Mustard’s).
It was along this drive down State Road 67, cutting through Martinsville, to State Road 37 (I mean, I-69), where it dawned on me that Indiana really is a state that lacks any redeeming characteristics that make me care about the place.
It is the state, after all, that gave us Dan Quayle and Mike Pence. In the same genre, Indiana also gave us Jared Fogle.
Which is to say that if Chicago were to announce that it had purchased Newton County, Indiana, and was going to install a garbage dump there, I wouldn’t have any strong objections; though I would passively hope to visit Beaver City in order to laugh at the town name in person before it was covered with trash.
About the only thing in Indiana that I like is Bloomington.
But not the Bloomington of today, the Bloomington of 20 years ago. The Bloomington with Long John Silver’s and Steak ‘n Shake as part of (but not really) Eastland Plaza. The Bloomington with a functional movie theatre downtown, a couple blocks away from the Laughing Planet Café (RIP, Covid Times) and Howard’s Bookstore (apparently closed in 2013!).
It’s not to say that today’s Bloomington is bad – it is actually the nicest city in Indiana, complete with a walkable downtown, infill construction filling in gaps, and a rails to trails path stretching through the city that is exceptionally nice. Ultimately these qualities make today’s Bloomington property of those living there today – the memories that will bring today’s undergraduates back in 20 years to attempt and relive their fond memories only to find that the city now belongs to the kids of 2040.
My travels south to Evansville involved driving down I-69 (a highway and a personal claim) – the highway is nice, but nobody uses it: 99% of the traffic took the exit for State Road 37 to Bedford. Basically it’s a faster way to get to Evansville, but only marginally so and at great expensive (both fiscally and environmentally). I’d go so far as to say that I-69 was a complete and total waste of money; the roads that were there were good enough (though they could use repaving).
I did stop at a few places, but I was more tourist than local. Some of the stops were duds, some were fun. I did not have an emotional connection to any.
Since I have not been travelling or planning travel, I’ve had some serious extra energy to devote to strange things.
Awhile back I discovered two romance novels: Him and Us – both are by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy. Both are excellent and fun novels to read with well thought out plots and excellent writing. Consequently I’ve read everything (as far as I can tell) by Sarina Bowen and a fair amount of Elle Kennedy.
As a member of the Sarindipity Facebook group, I became aware that Him and Us were available in a wide variety of languages: Czech, Danish, Dutch, English, French, German, Hebrew, Hungarian, Italian, Mandarin, Portuguese, and Thai.
So I set out to acquire the complete set – which I now have.
Some of these were incredibly easy: Danish, Dutch, English, French, Hungarian, Italian, and Thai. Among these the hardest, so to speak, was Thai: this involved navigating a Thai language website and paying a lot of money for shipping.
German proved to be messy: the books are out of print and I ended up having to search ebay.de and medimops.de, putting on alerts to help me keep track of what was for sale. Ultimately I snagged copies off of ebay, including a copy of Us that was signed (dedicated to somebody else, but…).
Getting Portuguese was half easy, half asking a Portuguese friend to order Us for me. I should note that the Portuguese books are actually in Brazilian Portuguese. Him was available from Book Depository.
I put off buying Hebrew because I was lazy – which turned out to be a good thing, because when I started my quest, only Him was available in Hebrew; by the time I turned my attention Hebrew, Us was also published, so I was able to order both books at once and pay for shipping only once.
Obtaining the Czech Us was easy; Him would have proved impossible if I did not have a Czech friend. This is because Us is still in print, while Him is out of print. So I search for Him on a used book site in the Czech Republic, got an email alert when it became available only to discover it could only be shipped within the Czech Republic. Thankfully this Czech friend was at home and could get it delivered to his family, then bring it to me.
Finally I was left with Mandarin – which is only acknowledged in English in the back of the Him/Us novella, Epic. The back also says that the books exist in Polish, but they are not actually published in Polish.
Since Mandarin goes far beyond my abilities, I ended up writing an email to the author asking her for a clue as to which country and which publisher published the books in Mandarin: Taiwan and Uei Shiang Co. (Him and Us) — Thankfully I have a friend in Taiwan who navigated the purchasing and shipping of the books.
My Him and Us collection is complete.
Earlier this summer I attended a few Berlin Flamingos baseball games – for the first time in two years, since last summer was, well, coronaed.
One cool thing about the Flamingos is that their home field is about an hour long walk from my new home, meaning that – if I want to – I can walk there and back.
There are two big differences between the games in 2019 and the games in 2021: first, the Flamingos climbed into Germany’s first league, meaning that the competition is much better. Second, the field now comes with light fixtures that illuminate the field for night games.
Not to grumble about the latter, but the lights were installed directly behind the fences that define the field. Along the leftfield line, this is problematic since that’s where all the seating is located: it is all to easy to have a light stanchion blocking your view of the field. I wish they had put the lighting up maybe 4-5 meters back from the fence, behind the seating.
This is, however, only an annoyance – if you get there early enough, one can usually claim a seat where the stanchion issue is minimized.
Watching the Flamingos play reminded me of my last experience watching the Colorado Rockies in Denver and of a story my grandfather would occasionally tell when I was a kid.
Whenever a ball leaves the field, the Flamingos make an effort to retrieve it, with the balls promptly returned to the umpire for further use.
This stands in stark contrast to the Colorado Rockies. I wholly understand that MLB is (to be blunt) rich: that baseballs are inexpensive (relatively speaking) and that MLB pitchers demand the best, most perfect, balls to pitch.
However, it felt like to me that nearly every ball pitched was shunted aside to somebody who took some notes – and on the main concourse of Coors Field there was a stand selling game-day baseballs and more, including the bases. They even market it on their website:
Take Home a Piece of the Game
MLB authenticators are on site each Rockies game to collect and authenticate memorabilia used by the Colorado Rockies and all visiting teams. Game-used and team issued memorabilia is sold at Coors Field, on the online auction site and by phone/email!
This is different from what I remember in my childhood – not that the Colorado Rockies existed then – but extraneous, game used, baseballs were thrown into the stands – especially damaged baseballs.
Now it is all about the money.
Which brings me back to my grandfather – he told this story about going to a Dodger’s game (no – not the LA Dodgers, the Brooklyn Dodgers) during, as I recall, the depression; though my memory says it might have been during World War II. The story works as set during the depression or during World War II.
During the game a foul ball flew into his section. In my memory it is unclear whether my Grandfather caught the ball or if he was relating the general story – but regardless, the ball was caught by somebody in the section, then the ball was hidden by the fans.
In that era, baseballs were extremely expensive and difficult to obtain (hence, this story works during the depression or during World War II) – so ushers were sent to the section to find the ball – nobody fessed up to knowing where the ball went and who had it.
In my lifetime, I have attended a large number of graduation ceremonies, including several where I walked the stage. Many more have been to honor friends and colleagues who have completed a degree.
Out of the dozens I’ve attended, three stick out. Only one of the three was celebrating one of my accomplishments.
The third most memorable commencement speech relates to my father’s job teaching math at a community college in Colorado. One element of that job was attending graduation ceremonies. I don’t think my father necessarily enjoyed the ceremonies and whether or not his attendance at these ceremonies was compulsory or voluntary is a detail that is lost to time.
As a kid, I sometimes attended these graduation ceremonies. I couldn’t tell you anything about any of the events except one, when Mr. Lewan of Lewan and Associates gave the commencement address. He promised that he would make exactly 12 points and then be finished. From my seat in the back row, I kept count. From his seat on stage, so did my father. After the ceremony was completed, we compared counts – he’d made over twenty points. His speech was commensurately long.
The second most memorable commencement speech was here in Germany. I was there in support of a friend, the commencement speaker was a famous German scientist, incredibly well respected in his field with a list of accolades to match. He’d been asked to give his speech in English – unfortunately he did not speak a lick of English. Somebody had typed up a speech in English and he tried to read the words aloud. As a native English speaker, I have no idea what he said that evening. Nor did anybody around me – it was a total failure.
These are, or course, memorable – for the wrong reasons. In the former, the speaker did not keep his promise of a short, 12-point, commencement speech. In the latter, nobody knows what was said.
In the case of my most memorable commencement speech it was nothing that Norm Early, then the Denver District Attorney, said, but rather what was said before the speech.
The introductory speech was given, I presume, by the president of the Park Hill Elementary School Student Council of 1985-86. What he said went right over the heads of all the students (including me) and most of the audience, but it landed directly on my father, who apparently spent the rest of the ceremony do anything he could do to not laugh:
“As the Denver District Attorney, Norm Early has tried everything from fraud to murder.”
I guess the old saying remained true: a poacher makes the best gamekeeper.
Every so often I wonder what happened to various people from my past.
Thanks to Google, I can give it a go.
Earlier this year I googled one of my contemporaries from the University of Wyoming – his name had popped into my head randomly and I wondered what had become of him. Google, of course, is not perfect and the first person I found was a convicted sex offender.
That sat with me for a couple days – yes, the guy I knew was a Republican; yes, I knew he was from Wyoming; and yes, we were radically different in our political perspectives – but I had trouble reconciling my memories of this guy with the fact that he was now a convicted sex offender.
Then I re-searched the guy and realized that the sex offender was too young. A more careful search revealed that the guy I knew had died when he was 44; certainly an untimely death – the obituary describes him as a “kind man with just a little bit of orneriness.”
Finding this was a huge relief: the undergraduate I remembered could easily be described as a “kind man with just a little bit of orneriness” – thus I could dismiss the prospect of him being a convicted sex offender from my mind.
A few years ago, my mother gave me a copy of my sixth grade graduation program. For whatever reason, I put off looking at it closely for at least five years. Then, last November, it floated to the top of a stack of papers and I glanced through the list of names: there were many people whose names I could not remember. There were some names where I could remember the name, but the name was sufficiently generic that any attempts to google the name would be impossible.
For example, googling my name turns out “about 909,000 results.” This is a lot, but it’s not impossible (and, indeed, I am on the first page). One of my classmates was named “Aaron Smith” – which gives “About 210,000,000 results.” I imagine that if I wanted to, I could probably add a few keywords to try and narrow the search, but that would rely upon the assumption that he still lives near where he grew up. (Plus, to be fair, while the name rings a bell, I could not remember anything specific about him; so there is not a strong connection, from my perspective.)
There was one classmate whose name I remembered – a name so unusual it probably is unique on this planet. So, I googled him: with around 30,000 results it was easy to find him.
It turned out that in the intervening 35 years our paths may have taken radically different – individualized – routes, but for the last five years, we’ve both lived in Berlin.
His home is 1.2 km (ca. three-quarters of a mile) from my old apartment.
We’ve met and get along fabulously well — thus, I can honestly talk about my elementary school friend.
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TQE : That Queer Expatriate I'm an American living in Berlin, Germany -- which makes me an expatriate, not an ex-patriot. Before landing in Germany, I've lived in Denver, Colorado; Laramie, Wyoming; Bloomington, Indiana; and Weimar, Germany. If you want to write to me, feel free! The username is elmadaeu on the gmail.com service.
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