"Gosh, you look like
you just lost your best friend"
A couple people told me that at work today. Did I really look that bad? I think it's just I felt drained and dead tired. Two straight nights with an almost total lack of sleep will probably give anyone that "hang-dog" look. And the weather isn't helping either. There's something about these cold grey gnarly days of winter that seem to gang up and when least expected, sap the life out of me. As gloomy and dismal as the sky looked today, that's about how I felt and, no doubt, communicated though my body language.
It's like I was a marionette, but the puppeteer got another gig and left me behind, bent at the torso with arms and strings draped to the floor in a lifeless crumble. I didn't want to work, didn't want to eat; I did want to sleep. Still do. But if I couldn't do that, I just wanted to be left alone like the cold, unhappy, worn out zombie who'd temporarily moved into my soul.
Whatever these blues are, I had 'em bad today.
But come to think of it, I did lose a best friend before, and it felt an awful lot like this, minus the lousy weather. Gary McKenzie had been my buddy from fourth grade through middle school. But 6 weeks into our freshman year in high school, he up and moved away. Didn't say anything, didn't get a chance to say good-bye. He was out absent on a Friday and was gone the next week. Then I heard he wasn't coming back. At all. The family had left California
By 14, stuff like that wasn't supposed to bother me anymore, but it did. It came at a real difficult time. The navigation from 8th grade to high school was difficult enough. But having a trusted friend to come alongside as we learned to swim in the choppy new waters was invaluable. We caught the bus together, met up at each other's lockers during break periods, ate together during the same lunch session and hung around together after school. Though Gary and I both liked girls, in a totally innocent way it was like we were 'dating'.
Best friends since being nine, we shared the same warped sense of humor, played football together, rode our Stingray bikes out behind the school together and bought a lot of Icee's down at the 7-11. We 'got' each other. Gary stuck up for me, listened to me, laughed with me, and just knowing he always had my back gave me a load of confidence I didn't seem to find anyplace else.
Most kids during their school years look forward to the weekends. I did too. And up until high school, I was always glad when it was finally Monday because I'd get to hang out with my friend again. But then Gary was gone. Suddenly, the halls of my high school seemed quite unfriendly and though everything looked the same, nothing was the same again. I couldn't wait till Friday so I could get away from it all. I didn't eat in the lunchroom anymore because Gary wasn't there. The always drafty bus seemed even colder in the wake of my friend's departure. For weeks, I didn't even want to go to the 7-11 or have an Icee. Both reminded me of old times.
Later in life, I'd feel the same way after breaking up with my first girl friend. Everything and everyplace reminded me of her. I didn't want to leave my room and all I wanted to do was cry. It wasn't that bad when Gary moved away, but was a painful preamble of how it'd feel to lose a deepening friendship.
Out of college, I wrote a poem called "Driftwood". Written in staggered stanzas, representing a meandering river, it tells of people and relationships that had drifted in and then out of my life, like flotsam and jetsam.
A couple people told me that at work today. Did I really look that bad? I think it's just I felt drained and dead tired. Two straight nights with an almost total lack of sleep will probably give anyone that "hang-dog" look. And the weather isn't helping either. There's something about these cold grey gnarly days of winter that seem to gang up and when least expected, sap the life out of me. As gloomy and dismal as the sky looked today, that's about how I felt and, no doubt, communicated though my body language.
It's like I was a marionette, but the puppeteer got another gig and left me behind, bent at the torso with arms and strings draped to the floor in a lifeless crumble. I didn't want to work, didn't want to eat; I did want to sleep. Still do. But if I couldn't do that, I just wanted to be left alone like the cold, unhappy, worn out zombie who'd temporarily moved into my soul.
Whatever these blues are, I had 'em bad today.
But come to think of it, I did lose a best friend before, and it felt an awful lot like this, minus the lousy weather. Gary McKenzie had been my buddy from fourth grade through middle school. But 6 weeks into our freshman year in high school, he up and moved away. Didn't say anything, didn't get a chance to say good-bye. He was out absent on a Friday and was gone the next week. Then I heard he wasn't coming back. At all. The family had left California
By 14, stuff like that wasn't supposed to bother me anymore, but it did. It came at a real difficult time. The navigation from 8th grade to high school was difficult enough. But having a trusted friend to come alongside as we learned to swim in the choppy new waters was invaluable. We caught the bus together, met up at each other's lockers during break periods, ate together during the same lunch session and hung around together after school. Though Gary and I both liked girls, in a totally innocent way it was like we were 'dating'.
Best friends since being nine, we shared the same warped sense of humor, played football together, rode our Stingray bikes out behind the school together and bought a lot of Icee's down at the 7-11. We 'got' each other. Gary stuck up for me, listened to me, laughed with me, and just knowing he always had my back gave me a load of confidence I didn't seem to find anyplace else.
Most kids during their school years look forward to the weekends. I did too. And up until high school, I was always glad when it was finally Monday because I'd get to hang out with my friend again. But then Gary was gone. Suddenly, the halls of my high school seemed quite unfriendly and though everything looked the same, nothing was the same again. I couldn't wait till Friday so I could get away from it all. I didn't eat in the lunchroom anymore because Gary wasn't there. The always drafty bus seemed even colder in the wake of my friend's departure. For weeks, I didn't even want to go to the 7-11 or have an Icee. Both reminded me of old times.
Later in life, I'd feel the same way after breaking up with my first girl friend. Everything and everyplace reminded me of her. I didn't want to leave my room and all I wanted to do was cry. It wasn't that bad when Gary moved away, but was a painful preamble of how it'd feel to lose a deepening friendship.
Out of college, I wrote a poem called "Driftwood". Written in staggered stanzas, representing a meandering river, it tells of people and relationships that had drifted in and then out of my life, like flotsam and jetsam.
Driftwood
He'd run
and fetch
and when
he panted
it looked
like he was smiling.
The dog
ran away.
Grandpa tried to comfort me
and said there'd be other dogs, other days.
So we went out and got sodas.
Grandpa died later that year.
I almost got in a
fight one day at school
with a bigger kid who promised
to knock my block into the next block.
My friend Gary stepped in and took the beating,
preserving my chops
as well as my life, no doubt.
That fall, Gary moved to Texas.
Back in college
I
spent many a long night at Rob's Place,
a
little dive near campus
which
served Old Milwaukee on tap.
In
those days,
'ol
Mil on tap was nectar
to my unsophisticated palate.
Anyway,
my buddy Bill and I
would
drink beer,
shoot
pool
and
play Waylon Jennings on the jukebox.
Then later, moving to a corner table
as the late evening turned to very early morning,
under the light of the Old Milwaukee neon
barely illuminating where we sat,
we’d discuss the important things in life:
like the advantages of real grass over Astroturf,
would
the Red Sox ever win a pennant?
what did Popeye ever see in Olive Oil?
and would we all live to see 30?
But I never talked
about her-
not
even the brew, the mood or the late hour could coax her name to cross my lips.
She was missing in action, too, had said good bye,
and I didn't want my friend to see me cry.
Last I heard,
Rob's Place filed for chapter eleven,
Bill filed for divorce
and I haven’t shot stick since then.
Last year, I met a new girl,
who made me forget the other one.
She was very pretty and liked to run,
and when she panted, it looked like she was smiling-
though one could never be certain.
I told her I loved her
and wanted to get married
and buy her a house with lace curtains.
She thought that was nice--
then ran off with her therapist.
Today, I bought a
new dog......
But people and friends aren't driftwood. They're flesh and blood
and real. And as one who sometimes wears his heart on his sleeve, the ones
I let in the closest seem to leave the biggest hole when they go. I
wouldn't admit or even begin to understand a concept like that when my
childhood friend moved on. And I wouldn't trade for a minute all the fun
and good times we had, either. But I sure missed it when life wasn't like that
anymore.
Crazy though, what exhaustion and energy draining winds and cold rains can do to a tired spirit. I hadn't thought about Gary in years till the other day when the subject of friends and loss came up. But I guess he was my first BFF. We had a history together. The hard lesson learned, though, is not all best friends forever are. They don't come along every day, too. But when they do, like Gary, I've learned to treasure every one. And while many may be gone, none are forgotten.
Funny what pops into your head under a few dark rain clouds; or when you're so sleepy, you can't hold up your head. Truth is, nothing’s changed since yesterday. I haven’t really lost my best friend; only a few winks of sleep. And when this mid-winter gloom and ‘yuck’ storm is over, the sun is going to shine again too. So I’ll be fine. I am fine.
Crazy though, what exhaustion and energy draining winds and cold rains can do to a tired spirit. I hadn't thought about Gary in years till the other day when the subject of friends and loss came up. But I guess he was my first BFF. We had a history together. The hard lesson learned, though, is not all best friends forever are. They don't come along every day, too. But when they do, like Gary, I've learned to treasure every one. And while many may be gone, none are forgotten.
Funny what pops into your head under a few dark rain clouds; or when you're so sleepy, you can't hold up your head. Truth is, nothing’s changed since yesterday. I haven’t really lost my best friend; only a few winks of sleep. And when this mid-winter gloom and ‘yuck’ storm is over, the sun is going to shine again too. So I’ll be fine. I am fine.
And though I didn't get to say it back then, I’ll say
it now- thanks Gary. For everything. You really were a great friend.
Friends I will remember you,
think of you,
pray for you.
And when another day is through
I'll still be friends with you
--John Denver
Friends I will remember you,
think of you,
pray for you.
And when another day is through
I'll still be friends with you
--John Denver
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