Andrea Lamers's Birthday

Andrea Lamers turns 38 today. I haven’t seen her since she was 10.

It’s interesting what you remember about people. I have two primary memories of her (aside from the indelible image of what she looked like). First was the day in class when we all told what our birthdays were, and she discovered she was one day older than me – delighting in the triumph that came from being the elder. Second is the fact that she was a first-class bitch – although at that age I didn’t know that was the proper term.

Andrea Lamers was cruel to me. She teased me, she spoke nastily to me, and she kicked me when she thought she could get away with it. I never understood what I did to deserve this. I thought she was beautiful from the minute I saw her. She had long, black hair, a high forehead, and large brown eyes. From the moment I tried to talk to her, though, she turned her characteristic sneer on me. She’d knit her eyebrows and fire would fly from those eyes I just wanted to stare into. To this day, I cannot remember what she looked like when she smiled. The sneer is the only image I have after 28 years.

Naturally, as she turns 38 one day before me, I find myself wondering what she’s doing now. Is she married? Does she have children? Does she have a satisfying career? Is she happy?

I hope so. I’d hate to think she spent the last 28 years being as unhappy as she must have been in fourth grade. I don’t know what makes someone want to be deliberately cruel, but I do know that happy people with love in their hearts don’t generally act that way.

It would be unfortunate if Andrea treated every little boy the way she did me. It would be hard for her to make friends that way. (And, no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember who her friends were back then). I hope that she learned to soften her approach. I hope that her own children learned from her not to treat others the way she treated the boy who sat behind her, who had the funny last name she probably can’t remember now.

I’m sure she won’t wonder about me when I turn 38 tomorrow, but, if she does, she should know this: I’m married. I adopted a daughter. I have people who love me.