Saturday, March 13, 2010

Weirded out

I'm kinda weirded out. Not like freaked out or even creeped out. I have this feeling I suddenly can't shake, like something shifted, like that feeling you get when you're suddenly jolted by a little earthquake (which really only applies in California, when you're kind of used to them. Here it's a big deal, even if it's just a little jolt. There, it's just kind of a thing, when it's little).

So here's the gig - when I was in high school my Economics(? Personal Finance? I think it was Personal Finance. I can't remember all of a sudden.) teacher was Mr. Pointer. He was kind of a nerdy looking guy, black framed glasses (a la Clark Kent), crooked smile, harmless looking and acting. I liked him well enough, I guess, for a teacher, but I hated the class and usually had Jeri bring a "note" from Mr. Bubalo getting me out (this meant that she would come to the door with a folded up piece of paper and tell him she had a note for me from Mr. Bubalo, who we both teacher-assisted - me in 2nd period and her in I guess 3rd, if that was the period I had this class in, it's sort of escaping me right now - and I would take it, read it, and then sort of wave it around and look helplessly at Mr. Pointer with sort of a "I'd love to stay and learn more from you but I've got this note and I have to go" look on my face, gather up my stuff and leave. The note generally was just from Jeri, saying something like "Ha ha ha Mr. Pointer thinks you have to go help Mr. Bubalo right now but really I want cake from Rose's!"). Anyway, I'd been busted for skipping a few times from him, especially in the Spring, when I'd be absent from class in the morning but then would magically appear up in the press box keeping score for the baseball game.

Anyway, this was about the extent of my memory of Mr. Pointer, and after graduation, life went on and that was that. My mom moved to an apartment after I had moved to California, so it would have been in about 1986 (three years after graduation), I guess, and she told me one day that she was somewhere, on the street? Again, bad memory, but anyway, some man in a motorized wheel chair approached her and asked if she was my mom. She said yes, and he told her he had been my teacher and wondered how I was, what I was doing, etc. - if he introduced himself at the time, she didn't remember his name. This was/is very odd to me because I didn't have the kind of mom that showed up at school for any reason, and certainly not for baseball games, or anything - she worked. She didn't even go to my graduation (Brad was graduating at Stanford at the same time so a trip to California obviously trumped a trip to the Memorial Coliseum) so it's not like he would have met her there. This guy would have had no way of knowing who my mom was and I remember at the time wondering who the hell the guy was - since she didn't remember his name I had to throw out descriptions of various teachers I'd had and try to get her to remember and it didn't work but I do remember finally deciding that it had to be him, Mr. Pointer. Though at the time he was my teacher he was not in a wheelchair.

All this was pre-internet so I really had nothing to go on by that. My mom told me later that she would see him all the time, tooling up and down the sidewalks on Murray, and if he saw her he would wave. I mean that in itself is weird enough. Right? Isn't that kind of a weird story? I mean, wouldn't you think I would have thought more about that over the last 23 years? And I haven't.

Until today, as I was driving down Murray, minding my own business, headed to the Palm Beach Tan over by city hall because it turns out they have my favorite of all the beds to tan in. And then I see it, first from far away, and then approaching and approaching.. motorized wheelchair. As I passed him, I saw his face - and there is no mistaking that it was Mr. Pointer. He had on a baseball cap but he had a very distinctive lower face and mouth area and so did this guy. I felt a sudden urge, seriously, to pull over and talk to him. I didn't, because I was going 45 miles per hour down a busy street, but I really wanted to. Actually, I really needed to. I continued on my way but thought about going back over and over again. Like I was drawn to him. Weird.

I googled him when I got home and came up with nothing.

So this is why I'm weirded out right now. Not freaked, not creeped. Just weirded. Because remember how I always say I hate the weather and I hate this town and even though I move away all the time I always come back and not just to Portland but to BEAVERTON and I can't figure out why and people always say well maybe you were meant to do something big here or something? Today has me wondering if it has to do with him. Mr. Pointer. I don't know why I think that. I mean I don't totally believe that but I mean, what if it did? What's the flipping deal here? Why do I feel this? Do you see why I'm weirded out?

I wonder if I'll dream about it. That happens a lot. I'll keep you posted. But for now, don't think I'm some kind of weirdo or anything. I have a big mind and this might be one of those times it tries to fuck with me.


At 7:41 AM, March 15, 2010, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Joyce...Next time find a way to stop and see if it is him. This story is to weird not to follow up on!

At 10:04 AM, March 15, 2010, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I totally believe in that sort of thing. Perhaps you had some sort of impact on him that you don't realize. Or, maybe, for some odd and unexplainable reason to him also, he has thought of you throughout the years and wonders why. I can't wait to hear more when you finally chat with him. BH

At 3:06 PM, March 15, 2010, Blogger My Way said...

This has the makings of a movie. Fo sho.


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