^^small fuckin' world, huh?!.....
Shit like that always seems to catch up to me though. I was traveling alone in Istanbul Turkey back in 1986 and check into a funky little "random" place called Hotel Popular. I was told that on the top floor there was a really cool cafe, so I headed up for a bite. I sit down and scan the room and sitting straight across form me is a girl I dated in high school, who was also traveling alone. SWING!
Another time in high school I was cutting gym class with some friends. After roll was taken we snuck back to the locker room and were changing into our cloths when suddenly a gravely voice boomed "What the hell's going on here?". This leather face old coach named Ben Edens drug us into his office and sat us on a bench. After letting us sweat it out for 10 minutes he asked our names, and I said Ron Masters. He looked me up and down and said " Is your dad Bob Masters? I thought Oh fuck, my shit is stewed. I whispered yes, and he snapped his head and said "OK, you can go". I stood up and walked out while the other two guys sat ther totally gob smacked. Turns out Ben was my Dad's football coach 18 years earlier.
When Ben turned 93 I wrote about this in an alumni newsletter and when he passed that same year it was published in the San Diego Tribune. Here's an excerpt of that article:
In 43 years as head coach at Point Loma, Bennie Edens left an indelible imprint that reached far beyond the football field.
Asked to submit a paragraph about Edens for an alumni newsletter, Settles replied with a three-page essay that prompted more than 100 affectionate birthday greetings.
Responses came not only from Edens' former players, but from cheerleaders and marching band musicians and ordinary students, from people Edens had taught to swim and from a 1982 Point Loma graduate he had once apprehended in the act of playing hooky.
“The whole time I was sure I would never see the light of day again,” Ron Masters wrote. “Finally, you looked straight at me with a scowl and growled, 'What's your name?' I sheepishly answered, 'Ron Masters.' You then looked me up and down and asked, 'Are you Bob Masters' boy?' I thought, 'I'm a dead man.' My world was collapsing around my ears. You then leaned forward and said, 'OK, you can go.' The other two boys sat there slack-jawed as I walked out of the room.”
When Masters finally recounted the story to his father, Bob Masters beamed.
“Ben Edens remembers me?” he asked.