long-lost

The International Spy Museum in Washington, DC

Because I'm thinking about it...

In the 13 years between my first year of kindergarten and my first year of college, I went to 9 different schools. My coping strategy for being the new kid all the time was to find one (1) friend and then stick to her like glue. (This is, I've learned, also an autistic trait. Relevant? Possibly.)

My best friend in 6th grade was the best of the besties. We were both smart kids who didn’t fit the girl mold very well, but weren’t tomboys either. I could be myself with her. I distinctly remember being at recess together, carefully using a silver pen to color the rocket-shaped erasers we’d won for getting all the quiz questions right in science class, with beautiful results. Silver rockets! Does life get any better? I was in love, as far as that goes at 12. I idolized her brains, her wit, her world travels, her passion for James Bond and Carl Sagan. So worldly and mature!

I moved again the next year; I think she did too. We did exchange letters into high school but eventually lost touch.

Over the years I managed to reconnect with a remarkable number of my school friends through the magic of the internet, but not her. Google, Facebook, LinkedIn…no luck, she has a common name and there were hundreds of hits but no way to know which if any were for the person I had known. She could live anywhere. And was that even still her last name? 

At one point I asked my parents whether they might be able to use the military Christmas card network to track down her parents. "No problem!", said my dad, "her dad was a <military job title>! Bob So-and-So will surely know him!" But I don't think he ever asked. A couple of years later the answer was a straight no, they'd lost touch with Bob...

While cleaning out boxes before we moved to Zurich, I came across the last letter I ever received from her. It said she was in London but would be doing an exchange program the next year…to Switzerland!...and gave her address here. A lead! As soon as we got settled I wrote a polite note to her host family, saying we had been friends but lost touch and did they know where she was now? I hardly dared hope for a reply, but one came only a few days later via the ever-efficient Swiss Post: yes, she lived with them; no, unfortunately they had lost touch too.

From time to time I'd still google her name. It showed up in connection with the Spy Museum. International experience, James Bond...maybe?? When we visited in 2019, I screwed up my courage and asked the person shelving books in the gift shop whether she'd heard of her. "Of course, she's my boss!", she said, and scurried off to the back office while I stood there looking at spy-themed merchandise and hiding my nervousness in a not-at-all spy-like way. What if this was really her? What if this was a disaster?! The salesperson came back alone: her boss had left for the day. But I got her business card. I sent an email as soon as we got back to the hotel. No reply.  

At this point I was feeling rather ashamed of myself. What if I had been stalking this poor woman all these years and she didn't want to be found?

Buuut...when last year Daniel discovered familysearch.org and was seeing what dirt he could dig up on our relatives, I decided to try my luck one last time: name, birth year, possible state of residence. Even that brought up a good number of records, but one or two seemed more likely than the rest. I squinted at some pictures on LinkedIn...if only I were better at remembering faces!...then I decided to take the chance and sent a message and...

Success!

Now I'm in touch with my bestest best friend from elementary school. How cool is that?

And/or, isn't technology scary?