As I ate lunch today (late as usual), I thought about this weekend, myself, and my store of anecdotes and tales. I think of myself as having had an interesting life, of having many people I know and stories to tell.
Yet, I find I repeat myself, sometimes with the same person.
In college I was accused of lying by a roommate of mine because there was no way that I could know all the people that I talked about, or have the stories and anecdotes to relate that I did - so of course I was lying (the same roommate was described by floormates as "a man with PMS" so I should take his comments about me with a grain of salt - but even now, years later, his name in fact long forgotten, his comments still resonate and hurt).
So, with a pardon to my friends who have heard this story before, here is the story of the Streaking midget, who did indeed dance a jig. I write this here because if came up in conversation this weekend. Perhaps were I to write down my anecdotes, quibs, quotes, and stories; were I to write all of them down - perhaps then I would write fiction more easily, or perhaps not. I have noticed that the more that I talk about the past, the more that I relate it, the more that I think about it, the more that I observe the past, the more that I will observe and think about the present, leaving me with a neverending supply of anecdotes and tales.
In the past few weeks I have also taken to noting odd snippets of conversations overheard - my current favorite being the conversation I heard on the street - two woman and a man were talking on the sidewalk. One woman said "He's the guy I met in the strip club"
I walked on and missed the context before and after but something about that phrase (the guy I met in the strip club) stuck in my head.
So, back to streaking midgets.
My high school graduation was streaked by a midget, who also danced a jig.
I was there, could I make something like that up?
I have to explain something here first - my high school graduating class was very large, over 660 people, so the graduation ceremony was outside on the football field. The parents were in the stands along the south side of the field, the seniors were all seated on the field, and there was a stage where the valecdictorians (we had 6) were seated along with the deans and principal of the school. North of the football field were four softball/baseball fields, and farther north the school tennis courts. The school over all took up four city blocks. The school building was to the right, there was a street to the left.
In the middle of the ceremony, during a particularly boring valecdictorian speech, a station wagon pulled up on the street to the left. A midget got out, buck naked, and ran across the softball fields. When he reached the field nearest the school buildings he stopped. Danced a jig. And then streaked back to the waiting car.
None of the parents noticed this, at least not that I could tell. They were all looking from far away down at the speaker. The students, bored by the speech, had a clear view of the dancing midget (at least those in the section I was seated in).
The midget was in my class, but not graduating with the rest of the class (bad grades I suspect).