I've got a quiver of strange stories, it's just a matter of pulling back the bow and taking aim...
But, on account of reentry, fear of failure, and my other flaws, I've got a bottleneck. Regarding reentry...
Information Overload, which all y'all are alternately suffering/enjoying, truly exists. There's just too much goin' on.
Here's a tripper. I just got off the phone with a buddy named Ryno. We're going out for sushi in 20 minutes.
I haven't talked to Ryno in 2-3 years. Haven't seen him in 4.
But today, while doing almost exactly what I wanted to be doing, I encountered a powerful possession of his: a ski helmet he rocked daily during my first winter in Jackson Hole.
It's a typical, black, slightly-dated ski helmet only discernible from any other by a small sticker on the back. That sticker is of a menacing, obviously-deranged clown.
Anyway, the helmet caught my eye in a very unlikely place, I explained it's significance, and it was given to me.
Then, upon arriving home, I find an email... the first in three years... from none other than the bearer of the helmet, Ryno. He's in town for the next week... temporarily vacating his Residency, a first year graduate from Medical School.
We entered different schools simultaneously. He stuck with it. I didn't. Before that, we'd spent a year as roommates living in Jackson.
In fact, when I rolled into Jackson on a dreary May morning, for lack of a clue I stopped at McDonald's and picked up a paper. In classifieds I found rooms for rent and started making calls from the Snow King Pavilion. The first person I talked to in Jackson was Ryno. The first person I met was Ryno. And the first thing we did together was move me in.
That's a hell of a coincidence with a hell of an important person... and I'm late for dinner.