I was 26, I had just gotten back from my public relations gig in Puerto Rico and was going through one of those rounds of agonizing reappraisal young men occasionally put themselves through. I had no idea how I was going to spend the rest of my life, my dreams of a PhD in astrophysics and a career in the nuclear industry in shambles, one from a lack of talent, the other from an excess of scruples.

I had taken a job as a stereo plotter operator, an aerial photo cartographer, a highly skilled but non-professional position. I was apprenticed in a very traditional shop, and was learning my craft from a crusty old-timer who had never graduated from high school. It was blue collar work, like a machinist or electrician, and potentially very high paying, but it was still blue collar work: as an apprentice, I was earning just above minimum wage. It took 6 months of training before I could do any useful work at all, a year before I did any productive work, and two years before I could work without supervision.

I was out having a drink one night and ran into a high school friend, I'll call him James. James had been the drum major and band leader at my high school, a skilled musician from an aristocratic Southern family. He had gone to college, and then joined the Marines' Officer Program under pressure from his family who did not approve of his plans to earn a living playing jazz. After finishing his tour of duty in the service, he used his family connections to get a job as an air traffic controller. These events severely conflicted with his personal life, he confided in me that he was homosexual (we had all suspected it in school) and that his military service and his job were inconsistent with his sexual orientation, leading to mental conflict, neuroses, and eventually, alcoholism and addiction to prescription drugs.

Afte hearing my story, he wished me luck, and assured me I would eventually find my way, but he hinted he would not. He made too much money to leave his job, he had abandoned his music, and the stress from his work as well as keeping his private life secret were causing extreme stress. Unlike your classmate, he did not look down on me for my humble job in the trades, I think he envied me.

I never saw him again. I hope everything turned out all right for him.