It’s been a couple strange days. I haven’t felt terrific but I have this terrific dog who sticks like glue to her Nance.
I am watching the Golden Globes and hearing the adorable Olivia Colman remark, “I’m a bit boozy. I didn’t expect this.” And Michelle Williams just delivered an eloquent plea for us all to vote in 2020. And Brad Pitt asked us to be kind tomorrow when we have the chance, after saying hello to his folks, who live here in Springtown.
But my heart aches for the Holdens. Alex Holden is 25 and has been missing since New Year’s Eve. He debated for me at Parkview for four years in my latter years as a coach. My absolute favorite thing about Alex was that—no matter what trouble he was in, no matter what hooey I was throwing at him as his demanding coach—he would grin. And I would melt. He charmed me when I didn’t want him to. He just had a way.
His talent was evident as a debater and as a performer. And he always swept his hair aside in an aristocratic way that cracked me up. Our high school was a place rooted in equal opportunity and lacked an element of fancy. That is a good thing. Alex had a way of relating to everyone but still being elegant. That’s it. He brought elegance to that debate room.
His senior year we faced an issue in which Alex’s credibility was challenged. At one point, in an isolated moment, he thought I doubted him. My kids called me “Wedge” then. It was my nickname. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and asked, “Wedge, don’t you believe me?”
I did believe him. And the look on his face at that moment is all I see now when I think of him. He is missing. Something has happened to this dear soul. He has family and friends who are desperate to see him again. I am among them.
So on this strange Sunday evening, I keep waiting for a word that is good. With Halpert asleep on my feet and glued to me, I hope Alex is okay, and he knows that we would all give anything for him to walk through the door, brush his hair aside, and grin that charming, slightly bull-shitting grin we love.
It’s been a strange several days. I pray I can recount them some day as miraculous. Come home, Alex.
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