*Names changed for those I gossip about because that shit is embarrassing
One of the great mysteries of being from a small, mid-west town: There were only 60 people in my graduating class but the number of classmates whose mugshots appear on the local evening news is infinite.
When my mother sees my high school classmates’ mugshots on the tristate news—KFVS12, live, local, late-breaking!—she will thoughtfully record the clip on her cell phone.
Then she sends me the recording through an instant messenger app and “innocently” asks, “didn’t you go to school with that boy/girl,” even though she already knows I did. But recording the video and sending it as a question is much classier than a straight shot of gossip.
I eat it up, of course.
Like any great researcher, I Google the story to figure out why Scott City’s finest got their moment of fame. And if you want to get your hands really dirty, you can look them up on the county jail’s inmate roster. When you’re from a small town, the county jail inmate roster and the registered sex offender website are a riot. You know these people. My friends and I used to share a few drinks and browse the pages, thumbing through the mugshots of all those we’ve studied with, worked with, played tee ball with, and dare I say, dated?
Turns out my most recent famous classmate had been arrested for stealing people’s mail—One of the highest crimes and sins of our time, the year of our Lord Amazon. In that mail there also happened to be people’s credit cards.
He looked rough. Like meth kind of rough. The guy he got caught with was in possession of this wonderful substance that holds small towns by the balls and brains. So, the dots connected.
My response to my mom’s not-so-innocent question—“Yeah, you remember Lucas, I borrowed a TLC cassette from him in the third grade.”
She had to remember. She chewed me out for borrowing that cassette. Her reason for chewing me out was if my little sister’s Mickey and Minnie karaoke machine ate the tape, we would have to replace it. And Lord have mercy if that woman would have to drive ten minutes to Walmart to replace a $5 cassette. I still tease her about this very moment all the time. It’s my go-to example when pointing out how little fun she let us eke out of life.
And if that weren’t enough to jog her mommy memory, I threw in, “He lived in the trailer park by my girl scout leader.”
I can still picture Lucas as a quiet third grader. He was quiet because he had a speech impediment and kids are cruel.
My mom has a picture of me on the first day of third grade and Lucas is in the background with a dazed look on his face (unaware someone is taking a picture), mouth wide open and back slumped over.
I remember having a crush on him at some point because, with a graduating class of 60, there aren’t many boys to crush on. The odds were in his favor that my insatiable grade school wild desires would rear their head in his direction at some point. I don’t remember when exactly but it conveniently happened to overlap with the TLC’s “Don’t go chasing waterfalls”.
So here I was, thinking of this quiet kid from my neighborhood that lent me a cassette. And now here he was on the local news, strung out and stealing Amazon boxes off people’s porches.
He’s young, though. And life has its ups and downs. In your early 30’s there’s still plenty of time to turn your life around. We’ll just keep our fingers crossed that the system works. I’ll probably run into him in 8 months at the Dollar General and he’ll be back on his feet.
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