I ran into a signature while looking for something else. It was my childhood friend and mischief buddy Rick. I wrote a private piece about him several years ago. So here it is revised some for length and appropriateness.
I must have been very small, for the world was very big. And I was in a snowsuit. I’ve never been sure of why this memory stayed with me, but I do know he was there, toddling about in a snowsuit as I was. That is my first recollection of my friend Rick.
Our parents were friends, and his father was one of four close friends that included my dad. My parents and his would visit long and often play cards when we were young. During one visit, his older sister and my older brother talked the two of us, probably no more than 4 years old, into wrapping ourselves in white sheets and jumping off the roof of our detached garage. We finally agreed and just as we jumped, our mothers came out the back door. My, they were surprised. Our siblings were thrashed, verbally and otherwise. We were sternly reprimanded and then cuddled – basically unscathed. That is my last memory of him for quite awhile.
I attended a private school for many years. When I was in 6th grade Rick’s father died in a train incident. It made an extreme impression on me. The funeral was held in the chapel attached to the school I attended. I remember the day. The sanctuary was prepared when I was sent down to deliver some papers to the office. I walked calmly, as though it was my mission, to the quiet room where the closed casket stood ready for the mourners. I sat down, cried silently and didn’t really think. After a few moments, I rose and walked calmly back to my class.
The next year, Rick and his older brother came to our school and his mother taught there. It was a small school and I was a strange kid. Rick’s mom was somewhat nice to me, but didn’t like the two of us being too close. We became close anyway – not sweethearts, just close. We were the kind of friends that stood up for each other. We were in junior high school and both of us had various crushes – puppy love events.
More than once, when he or I ended an emotional ‘romance’, the other would ‘break up’ with the current object of affection to be there for the wounded one. My mom thought we were moving in and out of a long range romantic development and decided that one day we would probably marry. I’m not sure what his mom thought, but it wasn’t pleasant. Did I mention that I was a weird kid?
At the end of 8th grade, we had a banquet, like a prom, but no dancing. There was music, entertainment, and then a movie. The place was decorated immaculately and we were treated like royalty. We dressed in formal attire and had assigned seats. Many of the young people went as couples. My mother and I wrangled over me wearing a dress that was far too adult for me and finally, she investigated to find what the girls all wanted but weren’t getting and bought a very expensive, appropriately daring dress for me. I hated it. I had to. In the end I wore it and was pleased as girl after girl told me they had wanted that dress, but it was far too expensive.
Rick wanted to take me to the banquet but his mom arranged a date with a proper girl outside our circle. Somehow I ended up across the table from them sitting next to one of his best friends. Rick and I laughed and joked and played with the mints and candles throughout the dinner and he sat between his ‘date’ and me during the movie.
In 9th grade, we had a close call. His girlfriend wasn’t able to go to the picnic. She was quite a good friend of mine and so the two of us hung around together all day. Now this picnic wasn’t like I think of picnics today. We took busses up into the mountains early and came home late in the day. We cooked out, played games, had races and went on hikes. Teachers divided up and chaperoned various groups of kids. Our teacher/chaperone was very lax.
The two of us wandered off on a different trail. We were playing in the creek, teasing and talking about our friendship when a challenging moment came. We were quietly staring at each other, close. What came next? Do we honor friendship? Do we cast it all to the wind and go for it? I’m not sure who splashed first! The spell was broken, at least on the outside.
One time at camp, four of us decided to get up early and go fishing. There was a cabin curfew and lights out, a start time, but there was no end time. We weren’t really breaking the rules when we tiptoed out of our cabins before 5AM with fishing gear and took off down the road. It was a crazy event. We hiked for about a mile and then put in at a likely spot. The first line out wrapped around a branch on the other side. The river was wild, swift and deep. The terrain on the other side was rough, but the two guys hiked upstream to a shaky bridge and made their way back down to the other bank. In the time interval, a fish had begun jumping for our bait. Watching the ordeal, we laughed until our sides hurt as the fish came up empty several times and finally attached itself to the hook. The two guys made it around to the other bank and finally got the line untangled.
The sun was well up and everyone else was too by the time we wandered back into camp with our prize. The powers that be were not happy, not amused and if we hadn’t had poles, hooks and been completely grubby, we would have been in more trouble. We were put on kitchen duty for a punishment and a new rule was instituted. Curfew had more meaning. Come to think of it, I helped inspire new rules often.
Once in high school Rick asked me to take him serious, to consider a solid relationship. I told him I didn’t think it would work because his mom hated me. He told me his mom didn’t hate me. After attending a play at the high school, we walked to his house so I could call my dad to come get me. As I came in, his mom started reprimanding him. It was late, he hadn’t finished certain chores, etc. He explained. She looked at me like I was a mutated alien come to destroy her home.
I called my dad. We went up to his room. We went outside to wait. I hugged him, smiled on the outside and told him it just would not work. Amazingly, we remained friends. He warned me about what would be a disastrous relationship and we remained friends. We wrote faithfully for about a year after I married and moved to a different state.
Eventually, pressures on a young wife and mother became too great and I simply stopped writing. But never have I forgotten the childhood friendship renewed in adolescence. I went through a divorce, remarriage, two bouts of education and many life evolutions. Yet I’ve always wondered what became of my friend.
The picture is of me at 14 taken in class. My friend is sitting behind me. The hair? I guess it was stylish; my mom fixed it for picture day. By the time individuals were taken, the bobby pins and bows were history and the curl had taken over!
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