It doesn't matter what his real name is. Let's call him Andy. Andy went to my elementary school and to my junior high, and maybe to my high school as well, but I'm not sure about that. I am sure, however, that I never said one word to Andy in my entire life. I'm also sure that Andy had few if any friends, was always physically dirty, and did poorly in school.

I've never given Andy much thought. I know his name, what he used to look like, and that is about it. But in the past week, I've come across two different people who may or may not have been him. One was an exquisitely obese man driving a nightmare of a minivan. The other was a down-and-out guy with long hair and a beard smoking in front of the Holiday Center.

Both times I had the same thought: "So that's what became of Andy. Well, that's about right."

Most of us are disadvantaged in one way or another. But some of us are just doomed from the start.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I had a lot of advantages. I was born into a house filled with three generations of relatives, not to mention the occasional foriegn exchange student. During my formative years, there was always plenty of people to pay attention to me and teach me things. I always had nutritious food to eat, clean clothes, and plenty of books. My parents never hit me once. When I reached age nine or so, the house emptied out and I had the run of the place, so was able to develop my independence. Plus all the money that was spread thin on feeding nine or ten people suddenly went to just three of us. I think I turned out fairly well-adjusted as a result of these things.

But there were limitations, too. For one example, even if I never contracted Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and effed up my GPA, I probably would never have been able to go to a really good, exclusive university simply because I never encountered anyone who knew how to prepare for such a thing, financially or academically. The only way that might have happened was in some bass-ackwards Tobias Wolff sort of way that involved an extreme personal motivation, luck, and a lot of cheating.

Yeah, I know: Boo-hoo. And yeah, I know: That kind of thing has as much to do with happiness as the number of molecules in Leonard Nimoy's butt.

But my point is that so much of who we turn out to be is determined by the people who surround us, their influence. Sure, once you get to a certain point in life, you can alter your course at will, but by how much?

And then there are people like Andy. Just doomed. As doomed today as they were in first grade. In fact, I think I see the doomed sort more often than any of the other sorts from my past. Or maybe I just notice them more. I see them in filthy jackets that advertise cigarettes or football teams, pushing rickety strollers or dragging obese toddlers. Or maybe they are alone, carrying that way about them that suggests they don't even know how to begin to dig their way out of this mess they're in. Sure, I might be wrong; they might be happy. But I don't think so.

For most of us, however, it is not a bad thing, provided that you acknowledge it. Where you are determines where you are going. And it doesn't matter what anyone else says or thinks about it, because no one else is travelling that same road. The only thing that matters is that you are travelling actively, and paying attention, and making some effort to steer. Because life will move you forward whether you have your eyes open or not.
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