Dust in the Wind

We were all skinny, active kids living in the projects with no frame of reference to let us know we were considered poor; loving life in blissful naïveté. When me and the boys weren’t playing baseball, football or basketball and long before Atari and Playstation came along to steal our imagination, we created games on the block with cans and made do playing manhunt in bushes.
In the days before texting…when we’d actually go outside and knock on a friend’s door to see if they could come outside and play.

If I had money, we had money - even if it meant splitting a 20 cents Twin Pop three ways.
Before bike helmuts and child seats we’d pile in the back of our uncle’s station wagon unrestrained - at times with the back window pushed all the way out for air circulation - bouncing to and fro, landing on each other and squealing in delight.

Before BCW, when parents were allowed to whip you with anything within arms distance we’d hear each others wailing through paper thin walls; we'd step over each others drunken fathers in the hallway - the rare few of us who had our fathers around.

We had our secrets and each others backs but were never ashamed of them.

Today I’m quick to tell my kids to never judge a school mate. You never know what life is like in their home.

Looking back on those days, our parents were children themselves. Indeed, in most of my childhood memories, I’m now older than my mother was.

We grew up in a 3 story brick building. There were 3 apartments on each floor, A, B and C. Living in the middle B apartment, our windows were in the middle of the A apartment where Lisa lived and the C apartment where Lily lived. Rocky lived above me in B.
When our mother’s called us inside at night, me and Rocky and sometimes Lily would hang out our windows and talk; if one of us was on punishment that day we’d relay to them the days activities. One of us, it seems, was always on punishment.

In the A apartment I spoke to Lisa. Lisa was my first crush. She was also, at times, my personal cheerleader. When I told her in the first month of the ninth grade that it was my intention that year to win the Jeff Petrak Memorial Award trophy for best athlete at graduation, she reacted with her usual Lisa-ness "Yeah, maybe in the next life." I knew though it was her way of spurring me on.

When I created an account on Facebook earlier this year, Lisa and Rocky were the reasons I did so. I was excited to find Rocky after some time. We caught up, she’s doing well and I was happy to hear that. There was absolutely no love loss; we both agreed that life gets in the way.

There would be no such luck with Lisa.

I found a mutual friend on Facebook who told me that Lisa had died two years earlier from brain tumors. It was like a sucker-punch to the gut; like smashing my Big Wheel into that concrete wall all over again.

I remember we had a picture together, me with Lisa and Rocky, from 9th grade graduation. I won that trophy and Lisa seemed more excited than I was. I remember her hand being on my shoulder in the picture. I had my mother send me a copy.

There was so much catching up to do. I hadn't seen you in 20 years, how did your life turn out? Were you happy?

I wanted to ask you if you remembered when I was going to fight Kendall from our 7th grade class. Kendall was new to our school. One day in first period I did or said something to egg him on and he just looked at me and said “three o’clock.”

My day in school was miserable from that point. I had gotten in plenty of fights, but Kendall was one of those country kids that was big for no other reason than just to be big for bigs sake. And country strong.

How long does a broken jaw take to heal? Does a raw t-bone steak on a black eye really help like it does on the Flinstones?

I remember you looking at me with your patented “good job” smirk and shaking your head. I showed up at three o’clock - with about 30 other school mates who were apparently anxious to see my blood on the outside of my body - because getting a beat down is a lot less painful than running home. Then for some miraculous reason Kendall's mother picked him up from school and we were friends from that day on. God protects babies and fools, so they say.

You and I walked home that day and didn't say a word to each other. You punched me in the arm halfway home and we both knew exactly what that meant so we just laughed.

Would you remember that?

I wanted to ask you to put on your thinking cap and see if you’d remember way back, back when we were three years old. I was in daycare and your mother would pick me up and I’d stay at your house until my mother came home from work. One day at daycare I had escaped and was hiding in some bushes, found a straw, stuck it in the ground and in my infinite wisdom started to suck up the dirt. I started throwing up immediately and was sent to the nurse’s station. There I was in the nurse’s station, belly down on a table with a thermometer sticking in my butt when your mother walked in with you holding her hand. I was mortified. I remember you folding your arms and giving me that patented, sarcastic, Lisa “good job” smirk. Even at three.

Would you remember that?

It’s crushing to hear of a friends’ death; even more when you didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. But I never loved you any less. Sometimes life gets in the way.

And I want you to know that I’m still looking forward to getting together and catching up with you.

But it’ll have to wait until the next life.