Searching for David Keith Reamer Jr.

My last conversation with David Reamer was more than a decade ago, maybe longer. He told me a little about getting married to his girlfriend’s best friend.

Months later, I called his mother trying to reconnect with him. “I talked to him once since he got married,” I told her.

After a pause, she said “David got married?”

After his stint at Ole Miss, he rarely communicated with his mother. I called her trying to find something out as a long-shot chance. I didn’t have any other leads.

David Keith Reamer Jr.—born on November 19, 1976—was one of my closest friends at T. L. Weston High School. We played chess together, discussed Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg and lived out our own form of subversive ways in Greenville, Mississippi. And then he graduated as a national merit scholar and went to Ole Miss, he acquired the nickname “The Shadow,” found espresso, and disregarded classes. His college experience ended with his scholarships revoked and him slicing his wrists in the Ole Miss honors house. Before he died, a custodian found him.

The following year, I went off The University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg, and he moved to McGehee, Arkansas, where his then-girlfriend lived. Throughout my college experience, David and I would exchange letters and the occasional phone call. While I continued to live in Hattiesburg, he moved to New Mexico where his girlfriend attended college. He also attended Eastern New Mexico University for a while, even won a photography award.

And one day I realized months, maybe years had passed without us speaking to each other. I no longer had a way to find him. I always wondered what David would do with his life.

He was one of the most creative people I have met. I kept letters in a shoebox and forgot about them.
He always had an interesting story to tell, whether about himself or the music and books he was into at the moment. I kept the bundle of letters he sent me over a two year period, beginning in 1997.

At my house in Starkville, I recently looked inside a cedar chest where I keep memories, I found those letters David wrote. Reading them aloud to a friend made us laugh at the incredible stream of conscious tone in which he wrote. He included poetry and Calvin and Hobbes cartoons, along with advice and updates about his personal life.

I remembered his e-mail address, which no longer exists, president_kafka@yahoo.com. It appears that David has lived much of his life in a Kafkaesque way and remained true to his nickname of “the Shadow.”

Realizing I hadn’t tried to look for David in years, I decided to give it another try. With MySpace a few years back and now Facebook, I thought he would emerge in the digital university. With social media and Google, it seems that everyone is online in some form or another. But I still couldn’t find David.

He left traces from his past—music and book reviews he wrote for different online sites—but not David. However, I found a person on MySpace from his past who still had a connection with him—his wife he mentioned marrying years ago. Imagine my surprise when I learned that I had written Alicia Reamer the day before their 10th wedding anniversary.

Imagine further surprise when she responded with the following message: “Sorry Robbie I don't know where he is. I have been trying to find him too.”

I wrote her again, explaining little more in detail how David and I knew each other. This time, the response was more than a couple of sentences. She wrote that she married David on February 15, 2000, but that she wasn’t seen him since October 2004 and hasn’t spoken with him since February 2005.

“I knew that he moved to Austin (actually Round Rock) with his girlfriend sometime that year and then to Amarillo about two years ago,” she wrote. “I cannot find him either.”

She continued to say that his mother contacted her a few years ago but also had no luck with finding him. However, she provided David’s last known address:

3631 Brennan Blvd
Apt. 21A
Amarillo, TX 79121

She also told me about his last known place of employment, the corporate office of Hastings. I called the manager of the apartment complex for the Amarillo address she gave, Windtree Apartments, and didn’t get much help. The manager said she couldn’t provide any details about anyone who may or may not have lived at that address. At her advice, I mailed a letter to the address and wrote “please forward” on the front of the envelope, although I’m sure David didn’t forward his mail if he has moved.

I also learned from Hastings that he no longer works there either, but did find a photo of him (standing to the right in this photo) taken during an event for comic book writer David Hopkins.

So, after a decade, I have learned more about a man known as “President Kafka” and “The Shadow,” but still haven't found him, just like a lot of other people who have sought him out.

Based on his elusive nature, I have a feeling he might prefer it that way.
 

UPDATE: 4:12 p.m. February 27, 2010

Since this blog was posted this morning, I have spoken to a number of people five different states. I appreciate everyone's efforts to assist my search with finding my friend.

Remember, sometimes people choose not to reconnect friends from their for many different reasons.
I feel comfortable that he is alive and enjoying life as only he can.