When junior high collided with high school, I was the second youngest boy in my class. Roger was the youngest, and one of my two best friends. John was the other, he was the scientific, hard worker, non girl chaser, non beer drinker in our trio, but that’s another story for another time. I have no idea how me and Roger and John got to be so close over the past years from grades seven through nine. Roger and I met in homeroom on the first day of seventh grade. He was an “O” and I was an “R”, and so our paths converged. Roger was a tough kid from a poor family, raised by a strong single mom. He was tough as nails, and smart as a whip, and was totally into himself. Me, I was more the dreamer sort, with a quick smartass tongue to complicate my life. John, Roger and I had a ton of classes together, and played soccer and basketball on the same teams, and just as we learned to not bring our Star Wars action figures to seventh grade, we also learned about girls, life and beer together. For some reason, although we were three totally different kids, we were totally inseparable and totally loved being best pals. We read the Outsiders by S.E. Hinton together and Roger thought he was Dallas, and I thought I was Ponyboy, (and John didn’t see himself in that story) and so that’s how Roger and I existed; two sides of the same coin. Yin and Yang. Id and Ego, with John there to knock our heads together whenever we needed it. And for some reason it really worked until the graduates of Wilson Jr High, along with the graduates of Garfield Jr. High matriculated to Hamilton High School, to be bumped from the head of the food chain to the end of the line. Big men on campus became little fish in a big pond.
And so we spread our wings some and made all kinds of new friends. We met Tony, Bobby, David, Bryan and Darren Steele, otherwise known as Chuck Taylor, because he always wore old school Converse Chucks. I loved these new friends, they were musicians and drank beer, and weren’t exactly wild, but fun loving guys. We were inseparable for the better part of the next four years. The band Stealth was formed, girls came and went, but we all loved hanging out together. When high school was over, we all went in different directions. Some stayed together, others went on their own. We would never get back together as a group again. Clichéd though it may be, this was somewhat sad, but true.
Two weeks ago I learned that Chuck had died from brain tumors caused by radiation therapy he underwent as a kid when he was fighting leukemia. I am seriously shocked by this news. Apparently he died 4 months earlier, and I just hadn’t heard. And although I hadn’t seen my high school buddy for seven or eight years, I miss him terribly. Darren was a one of a kind. He was a serviceable drummer as a kid, he loved music, and he was very funny. The best part of him was when he laughed. He was born to laugh, and he could get a laugh going at something stupid that would infect those around him. Chuckie could be a real pain in the ass, and God knows he was set in his ways, especially for a young guy. But he was a guy that loved to talk, tell stories and loved hearing the good stories of others. I remember when someone would disagree with him, even about something trivial, he would get this amazed look on his face and would be awed by the possibility that he might be wrong, but probably more disgusted that someone disagreed with him.
Chuck was a small guy, very short and very thin, but had this big mane of hair (remember the rock band, and yes, it was the 80’s) that seemed to be made completely of baby’s hair. Thin, curly, whispy and mostly blonde, he was a funny looking kid, but still had his own very original look. He always wore Converse Chuck Taylors, he always wore colorful “look at me” Hawaiian type shirts and he was always in the middle of everyone. He made funny comments barely out of earshot of someone who might not enjoy the comment. He always made fart noises at just the right times in classes and in group gatherings (think Principal addressing group of students). He was a funny kid who always was around. And now he’s gone.
People go their separate ways everyday. Mostly we never know exactly the last time we’re going to see someone. We can’t go back and we can’t ever know our own destiny. I will always remember this little funny looking, fun loving world changer that was my friend for many years in the high school years of my life. Why we die is mostly not important. How we live is much more crucial to the memory of those around us. And when people’s lives are examined after they’re gone, the core of the human personality is what should be preserved. For me, this is the second high school best friend I’ve lost (Bobby’s suicide ten years ago). Our whole group has lost two now. Most of us don’t see each other anymore, but some stay in contact. That’s not sad for me, but what is sad is the idea that someone who was so full of life, had so much to offer the world in optimism and laughter and thoughtfulness, won’t be bringing his sunny disposition to anyone new ever again. I remember Chuck as the boy before the man, and the blueprint of his life had already been drawn early in life. So when I think about my friend, I will think of his infectious laugh and his big heart and his Converse. The shoes were the ultimate metaphor for his life. They were fun, colorful and seemed bigger than their actual size, and everyone liked them. That’s how I’ll remember Chuck, that’s how I’ll remember Darren.
No comments:
Post a Comment