Okay, so you know that I sometimes have connections with the people I see in the jail. The guy who had the accent that sounded familiar? Turns out he was from New Orleans' Ninth Ward where I spent two years teaching back in the 1980s. We spent an hour talking about the neighborhood. He hadn't been back since before Katrina.
I ran into a few people at the prison who'd used the food bank at the parish where I worked in Tacoma in the 90s, though none admitted to being the guy who peed on the wall of the building across the parking lot from my window.
At the prison, I knew a man who'd lived in the town where I grew up in California. We lived there in different decades, but still, I don't run into people from that town. Ever.
And then there's this. I wrote a book about my mom and Alzheimer's. It's mostly stories about the last ten years since she moved to Washington. There are some stories about growing up, but I kept the focus on the last decade. Threw in some family pictures. The response from my family has been fun. Some of them hadn't known I was writing a book. Some had read earlier versions. But it's finally out there.
I got a phone call from a guy who's out of prison now, working hard to get his life on track. The woman he lives with brought home a copy of the book and he picked it up. Then he called me and said, "Hey, I worked at a liquor store with your brother back in California." He recognized my brother from the photo section. Yeah, that guy, the one who lived in that same town as I did, decades apart.
As if I needed any further notice from the Universe that it is a very small world.
Interested in the book? Here's the Amazon page.