Remembering Bob Maggi

There comes a time in our lives when we face the reality of our own mortality. This thought is a common cliché, but for me, it happened this week. A friend from high school died as a result from injuries sustained in a car accident. The details of his death are unimportant, especially when I reflect on him as a person and the source of memories, distance and reconnection that I don’t think he ever imagined he would become.

When I moved to Jackson, California (a small, old gold-mining town in the Sierra Nevada foothills) my sophomore year, I was not the person that I am today. That is to say, I was quiet, shy, and not confident of who I was. Bob Maggi was the polar opposite. Previously, I had grown up in a large city in the Midwest, where football is king. I played on the team, which really means that I was merely ON the team. Taking the field was a pipedream, but I was happy to just be wearing a jersey. The high school I attended my freshman year had a huge population (a few thousand, if memory serves) and I was content with being anonymous.

Flash-forward a year and I found myself in a new school, whose entire population was about the same as my previous freshman class. Anonymity was no longer an option, and being on the football team meant that everyone (except for uncoordinated, near-sighted goofs like me) played offense AND defense. We won our division my junior year and there were many gifted players, including Bob. A decade and a half has robbed me of specific games and stats, but I remember Bob for being an extremely intense player. His stature was such that he had a low center of gravity and could plow through opponents and find holes in the line where you thought there were none. He lived his life the same way. Some players carry their intensity off the field with them until they are put back in. Bob didn’t. He was cool and collected, but the coaches could depend on him to amp up on the field. Even though I had many more inches of height over him, I recall being intimidated merely by his presence, but not due to anything he ever said or did to me. I never really gave it much thought at the time, but I realize now that it was because I viewed him as a badass, a far cry from how I saw myself.

Attending a small country school means that everyone knows everyone. Even though we may have not hung out in the same social circles, we all saw each other in nearly every class. We almost surely ran into each other at parties. I wasn’t much of a party animal, especially due to the fact that I worked every night on the weekends, but I got out from time to time. Bob and I attended the same party on at least a couple of occasions that I can recall. I was slightly intimidated as usual, due to my own insecurities. I remember Bob striking up a conversation with me once and I thought I was pretty cool, even though I must have acted like an idiot.

Our class graduated just over 90 students. Many of us have stayed connected over the years, despite the fact that life has limited the consistency of our communications. There is a bond that I feel with every one of my classmates. I hadn’t seen or spoken to many of them until our ten-year reunion a few years ago, but it felt like time had never passed. I ran into Bob Maggi at a bar that a fellow classmate had recently opened. It was the reunion after-party and it felt like old times, except we weren’t worried about hiding from chaperones or parents. I was utterly surprised at how friendly and light-hearted Bob was. He acted as though we had been great friends in high school. While this wasn’t untrue, we had never spent much time together during our formative years. He told me that we should hang out, then gave me his business card and told me to call him. I can still see the card, with his name and number on the front. Several more years have passed since our reunion, but I have never seen Bob again. I have moved several times since then and have subsequently misplaced his card. I hope I come across it someday. What I recognized from this encounter is that I never really knew Bob. He was more friendly and congenial than I had ever realized. My own insecurities robbed me of getting to know a good person and becoming a better friend.

From what I understand, Bob, like many of us, has had his battles over the years. Some of us emerge victorious and others don’t. Those like Bob are never given the opportunity to find out. I don’t know too many particulars of his life, but frankly, it’s none of my business or anyone else’s. What has emerged from this tragedy has touched me every time I think of it. As I alluded earlier, there is a deep spiritual connection that I have always felt with my former classmates. As the news of Bob’s accident came to light, I began to receive phone calls, e-mails, and text messages from friends that I had not heard from in years. I, in turn, continued to relay the horrible news. Despite the passage of time and lack of communication between each of us, Bob was cared for enough to hunt each other down and pass on the word. We also still care for each other enough to reconnect and console one another. Bob is the first one from our class that any of us can recall losing and it is a huge loss. Bob’s presence always filled a room, and even in his absence, he will continue to do so.