I haven't thought about Jeff Peabody for a while. But now that I've started, hoo boy. There's a lot there. He and I went to school together, from South Bay Elementary through North Thurston High. He got a ventriloquist dummy, and I got my parents to get me one (the slightly off-brand version). He wore a denim outfit/hat, and I wore an outfit/hat. And unlike him, I got to wear my hat in class, because my hat was viewed as part of my ensemble, and his wasn't (ha!). We were in band together. We both sang. We tried to stage "West Side Story" in sixth grade. (I don't remember why it didn't work out, but I do remember the words to Sgt. Krupke song.)
Anyway, his musical skills got him a lot farther than mine: I just saw that he won the freakin' American Idol songwriter's competition last year. Jordin Sparks sang not just any song when she won, but his song: "This is My Now." Holy crap! (That's Jeff on the right in the picture). I am now officially at peace with the idea that Jeff is the leading man I will never be (yeah, it took me a long time to realize some of the dynamics of our relationship). Good for him! I'd like to think that perhaps I in some way inspired him to achieve as he inspired me.
Funnily enough, we've ended up living near each other. He's a pastor at a church not far from our house. And it sounds like the kind of church I might like (click here to read his sermon that name checks Stretch Armstrong, C.S. Lewis and Kung Fu Panda). But unless something has changed (and a girl can dream), his Christianity isn't the kind that's OK with the gay thing. And I'm not interested in sullying the warm feelings I have about our past with judgements about who I am (and who I always was, really). So I'll just send good wishes to Jeff from afar.
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