where in the world are you, John Ringo?

So this morning I was listening to the Daily Breakfast as I worked, and something that Fr. Roderick said in the episode’s post-production had me thinking about a period in my life when I was heavily into (um, perhaps that period has not ended) science-fiction, and I was thinking about some nerdy friends that I had way back then.

They were BOYS. Oh my. Because really, none of the girls I knew liked science-fiction, they were too busy liking BOYS. Riiiiight.

I often tell young ladies to marry a nerd—they make good husbands and make good livings.

As I was saying, I was reminiscing joyfully about some of those guys, and I remembered two—John Webber, who sat at my table during math class, and we spent more time drawing and creating ‘zine-like scenarios for Space:1999 than perhaps paying attention to the algebra concepts, and another guy, John Ringo, who was in my grade but not in my class. I kinda liked John Ringo. He had a lot of redeeming qualities. He had a great vocabulary and he was taller than me. That was very important in the 8th grade.

We ended up going on a date or two, and then, who knows—adolescence. I remember Pizza Hut, and some godawful school dance where no one danced. I suspect we could have waltzed. He probably knew how. Ha!

Anyway, that was the night that my brother stood on his bed with binoculars and watched John and his sister and brother-in-law (our ride and chaperones) drive up to get me. I think we went to a movie on another occasion. Ha, again!

That is all. I thought I’d share. I mean, it was clearly destiny that I should marry a guy named John. He was a nerd. And he’s a good husband. And he has a good job.

***

There’s a science-fiction writer named John Ringo, but I’m not going to do the creepy facebook stalking thing. I mean, for what? I can’t say I’m all that interested in resuscitating anything from my school days (they were good enough—just not into the whole re-living the past thing), but here’s hoping he turned out well.