The Garden of the Blind

While I was on the phone with my mom tonight, she said something about my friend who disappeared years ago. This got me to thinking.

I knew that he had moved to California. One of his old neighbors kept tabs on him for a while, and so while I knew her I kept getting occasional updates. They weren’t very promising, and I mourned for my friend who was lost.

I don’t know why it never occurred to me to track him down. It wouldn’t have been hard. It’s probably because I don’t keep in touch with people very well. But tonight, I had been reminded of him and was sitting at my computer, with a whole internet right at hand.

Google was fruitless. There’s too many people with his name, even though it isn’t that common. A directory search also ran into obstacles because it required a city, which I didn’t know. It did link to a public records search site that allowed for search by any of name, city, state, and age. Entering his name, age, and state, it turned up about a dozen people. One of them had middle names listed that looked right to me. To my surprise, the directory search turned up a number for this guy.

After a couple of tries, I got through. Some guy who couldn’t quite understand me answered the phone, thinking I was Oliver (whoever that is). Eventually, he put Karl on the phone. It took a while for him to figure out who was on the phone, and a bit longer for me to figure out that he knew who was on the phone.

So, I had tracked down my old friend Karl. I last saw him early in our junior year of high school almost 12 years ago. We talked for a while. It’s hard to pick up after so long. He’s doing well. Still, it was very nice to talk to him again.

For this my friend was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.