It was by accident I discovered that Dale was forever gone.
An accident being I was rudely yanked out of a routine that had become so time sucking, I hadn’t realized how far I’d drifted away from who I began as.
And so I was given an out when my number finally came up after 7 years of IT layoffs. I knew it was coming as the original team I started with had shrunk to.. well... just me.
The employer I worked for had been steadily cutting workers in the US while hiring in cheaper countries. They called it ‘outsourcing’ and that it was good for us. That thought rang in my head as cleaned out my desk and then drove away.
And so after many years of being more my job than me, I found I had time for myself again. Time to dream, time to reflect and time to reinvent and that mind frame led me back to Dale.
The day I remembered him was about two weeks after my last day at work.
I was already spoiled in my my new routine which was reading the paper, sipping coffee, daydreaming. I wander around the house; with my head in the clouds. I'm loving the down time, feeling comfy in my white T and pink fleece lounge pants, Dilbert themed coffee cup in hand, when my brain whispers to me to head to the basement.
My husband seeing me go down the stairs, calls out to me that ‘since I have time, can I start cleaning out my old stuff stored in the crawl space?’
I yell “yeah, sure.” back at him.
At the basement doorway, I flip the light switch to reveal our stuff from past to present. My husband and I met in our 30′s so we both have stuff from our lives before we met and since have added our years together to the pile.
I work my way past the lawn Christmas Reindeer and the Halloween Cobwebbed ghouls to a stack of weathered looking card board boxes with my name scrawled on the side. They look foreign to me. I haven’t looked inside these for decades.
One box in particular seems to beckon me. It’s at the bottom of the stack. I lean down to read scribbled in black marker, “old photos and stuff’.” I put down my coffee cup and start removing the boxes piled on top of it. Once the box is free, I open the cardboard cover and pull out some photos. I recognize immediately that they are of me from the 70’s and early 80’s.
My husband appears at my side and says, “Do you need help with that?”
“Yes, please bring to the office.”
I follow him and once he sets down the box, I open it and start sorting through piles of old photos. About an hour later, I pause at the black and white photo Dale took of me repelling in Park City, Utah in 1973. I study it and I’m flooded by memories.
I eagerly search through the box to see if there are any photos of mine and Dale’s European adventure but deep down I know I won’t find any. The negatives were damaged by water long ago. Damn it, I should have processed those back then but it was always something to do later and then I waited too long.
I sigh as I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling, my mind centered on Dale and when we last saw each other in July of 1975. I shake my head thinking how time just flew since then. I realize I have no knowledge of where Dale is these days.
Snap! But i can assume, I think to myself as I sit up straight swiveling my chair to face my computer, is that he eventually got married; and though he loved to travel, his home was most likely anchored in Salt Lake City.
It would be a logical starting point to find him, Right? I smile to myself as I imagine an analytical Spock agreeing.
I sip my now cold coffee as I google Dale. The results put me back to swiveling in my chair, thinking hard. Hmm. Lots of people with his name but not him. I mull more on how to find the real Dale.
Then it comes to me that Dale must be on Facebook by now and probably has shared some of those old photos with his friends. I think yes of course he would have. I could then easily download shared pictures electronically, I think to myself.
Feeling progress, getting excited, I search for Dale in Facebook but from the list that appear, none look like him. Did he change that much, I wonder?
I keep searching and it pops in my head to search his high school yearbook online. I had found my own classmates online recently so I should be able to find Dale by now via his High School reunion website. We had graduated the same year. He at Skyline, me at South High.
Searching ‘Skyline class of 1970’, the search engines provides the Skyline High School yearbook link which I excitedly click on. I find Dale in the list of classmates and after clicking on his name, I am stunned to see Dale is listed under his Class “In Memory” page.
Saying I was shocked is an understatement. I look and see that under his High School photo, it says he died at the age of 27 on Feb 21st 1980. No other info. No cause of death. I search the internet but only find a California Death record that he died in Long Beach, California. I’m stunned as at that same time in 1980 I was living in North Hollywood, Ca. Not that far away. How could this happen. So close yet so far away. I bury my face in my hands and cry.
I don’t know why I didn’t look for Dale sooner. How could I not considering at 21 we shared one of our greatest adventures together. We didn’t think too much of it all then but through the years, I learned that it was a big deal. I never met anyone who had experiences like Dale and I. Everyone loved hearing stories of our Europe adventure.
Over the next few days, my thoughts kept drifting back to Dale. It makes me feel incredibly sad that the only words describing him in the end was that he died and when. It should have included: Adventurer, Friend, Witty and Smart!
So with that lingering thought, I sit at the computer, open a new document and without any effort, words flow from my finger tips.
My husband comes by and asks “what are you writing?”
I answer that I feel compelled to write about Dale and our European Adventure. Especially now since he and all photos of that time are forever lost.
He says “do it then.”
So here goes.