The Thoughts and Speculations of Sam Wentz

The speculations of Samuel R. Wentz (nobody needs to know what the R stands for in his opinion) began on only the eighth day of his sophomore year of college. First, he laughed at the paradoxes in his life as he eyed the group of people exiting Marley’s Music Store – “For the Nostalgic!” – a sign read. They dressed in the typical “different from everyone else” trying to display their indie culture to the fullest of their ability. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that although growing up in Portland Oregon, around the kind of people who would insist on making a dusty vinyl record store their stomping grounds, he still didn’t quite understand them, still noticed them as he passed them on the street. This strange aspect of his life, among many others, began to surface to the forefronts of his mind in revelation, but were soon dispersed among typical thoughts and worries about his next classes or weekend plans.

Sam was a simplistic guy. Right? He knew he was. I mean, he was a lacrosse player – recruited by Boston University - which although was something found few and far between in Portland, just kind of seemed expected of him in New England. His family life really hadn’t changed him either, he thought. His comfortable life with his mother, stepfather, and stepbrother was always welcoming upon his return from school; never altering or taking a traumatic turn for the worse. He played guitar, once the piano when he was little (I mean, everybody did), went to college parties, had a lot of friends, joined the intramural Frisbee team at the request of his friends, well, the constant pestering really. He was social, a procrastinator, studious when he felt like it, and badgered by his parents for his lack of a girlfriend. He was a twenty year old boy.

What could possibly set him apart from any other college student he wondered, examining the crowd around him shuffling down the sidewalks, tightening their jackets around them and shifting the weighted down backpacks and purses on their shoulders. He wracked his brain, bouncing the casual words of a girl he met in class just last Tuesday, around his brain. “You’re a strange one Samuel R. Wentz, I like it” she had said, using his full title – for dramatic affect he supposed. He hated that. That looming R staring at him in her words, on every attendance list, report card, or document which prompted him to print his full name clearly. He felt like shaking that loose R out of place, dragging it out from between his first and last name where it had became comfortable, ignored, waiting to be called forward to haunt him again. Ronald, why would anyone stick their kid with the middle name of their father? It just didn’t seem fair he could brush away the Smith that once closed his name after his dad was replaced with Mr. Joseph Wentz but he couldn’t seem to rid himself of that awful middle name Ronald.

To be honest, Sam never really comprehended why his parents split. Neither did his four year old mind at the time, but it didn’t really care either. Now, with the understanding that his father was a successful Boston College professor of philosophy, newly remarried, quite happy and well mannered he couldn’t help but doubt his mother’s decision. But no, there must be something wrong with him. He didn’t feel like unburying this idea at the moment, there must have been some flaw in him that would have solicited his mom to resort to divorce. Something that would have damaged the family and their lives, something that would have made Sam’s life not as simple and easy as it was. There must have been. Besides, Boston College wasn’t that far if he ever wanted to… no. Sam was normal, his life was normal. He would grow up to have a normal life, a normal family. He didn’t need complications. That R was to be ignored. There must have been something that tainted it. Sam didn’t want to follow this path of thought, he didn’t need these concerns. His life was normal. Right?