Some phone calls are long overdue by the time you make them.
Distance learning has echoed evolution in our household by rewarding specialization. As a dual-nerd couple, my wife has adopted the more time-consuming math supplementation while I have offered to help teach science and social studies.
Discussing the classification of species with my 13 year old recently, I caught myself repeating a schema I'd last heard 33 years earlier from a very influential biology teacher during my freshman year at a public high school in my home town: The kind of cells, the number of cells, and how they make their food.
I was flooded with memories of loving the class: dissecting the gastrointestinal tracts of foot long Ascaris specimens; viewing the undulation of nematodes under a microscope; the unbridled enthusiasm of my teacher, Mr. T, and how he made biology a topic I could not wait to learn more about; and finally, the day shortly before Halloween that we scrapped the lesson plan and just checked in as a class about what was happening in our lives.
If you are lucky, one talented teacher reached you in a profound way at a crossroads where it had an impact on your life trajectory. Mr. T was one of a trio of teachers (for reasons I can't comprehend, my junior high and high school conferred the gift of abundance in mentorship) prior to college who put me on track for a career in science.
After 9th grade, I'd come across Mr. T at home football games and we'd catch up briefly before he had to resume his duty as the photographer for most of our high school's sporting events. He was quick-witted, with a twinkle in his eye and a serious dedication to his students, both in the class and on the field.
(It would not be until many years later that I discovered he photographed all of those events for free, because he cared enough to spend his free time on us.)
Steeping myself in nostalgia, it dawned on me that I'd never thanked him properly, or acknowledged him for being such a positive influence.
Last weekend, thanks to the stalker bonanza of google, I was able to track down Mr. T's home phone number in under five minutes. I called, and his wife picked up. She was delighted to hear my motives, and promised she'd have him call back as soon as he returned from an errand.
Mr. T called within the hour: During the years when you were my student, 150 kids cycled in and out of my classes every day. And I still remember you like it was yesterday.
He recalled that anomalous pre-Halloween rap session, and painted me a portrait of the kid I had been and the qualities he'd noticed back in the day.
He also told me of his retirement after 38 years of teaching, of extensive domestic travel with his beloved wife in these recent sunset years, and of health that was decent considering his 81 years on the planet.
I updated him on what had happened in my life since we'd last seen one another, personally and professionally.
Most importantly, I let him know how important he was in influencing how I made those big decisions that deeply affected my future career, my outlook as a lifelong learner, and the sense of wonder I've continued to enjoy in understanding the natural world.
I felt better for having let him know what a profound difference he made in my life.
We both left the conversation grateful for the other.