Sometimes it’s fun to hear a voice from your past. I don’t really care for the calls that begin “Do you know who this is?” I never know. If they are not someone I speak to on a regular basis how am I going to recognize the voice. I’m not expecting it nor do I have the kind of recall system that instantly picks out sounds from 30-50 years ago. But Thursday night I got exactly the right kind of call. It began, “This is a voice from your past” and immediately reintroduced their self.
I nearly fell out of my recliner. My high school recently held the 50th reunion for my class. I know I only look 30. How do I do it. No picture included. I did not go. The school is half way across the country and my circle of friends was rather small and I reasoned that I would not know anyone. Besides, no money – a real issue.
As it turned out, I would have known someone. A friend that attended looked forward to seeing me. I wish I could have gone. When he said, Bob Washington all kinds of wonderful memories immediately jumped to mind. He was part of a small group who went to sporting games and taunted the other team and their fans. Yes, I joined in. If I recall correctly Dean Thomas was the initiator, but Bob was the protector. Not that he had to do anything. His size was a deterrent to most things. However, I do have a couple of memories of running for my life. Now, I just wish I could run at all.
I seem to remember that we called Bob George at times. Not for any resemblance to our first president, but because of his last name. Because we were so mouthy I wonder how I survived my freshman year. There was a time when three seniors caught me at my open locker with clear intentions to lock me inside. They knocked the books out of my hand and I mouthed off at them and they began pushing. At that exact moment a teacher came around the corner and I quickly asked her where such and such a room was. She said, “Come with me – I’ll show you.” I was very happy to go with her.
I was always sarcastic as a teen (what to you mean, as a teen). The group gave me the courage to be loud and expressive. It was part of coming out of my shy shell. As so often happens when high school ends, we all separated and went our own ways. Bob told me most are still in Omaha. I guess I was the one who ran away. The only reason I left was to leave Omaha and I only did that because a buddy was going to school in Canada and I went with him. It sounded like fun.
Bob told me that Eugene had passed away. Of the group, Gene lived the closest to me and we often wanted home from school together. Dean and Bob were at the reunion. It seems like there were one or two more guys, but I cannot remember today. Bob will remember. I could be dreaming. Many things from those days are bigger in my mind than they really were. Part of aging I guess.
There were many terrifying things about high school for me. I did everything I could to avoid the west parking lot and the occasional black – white fights. I may have had a mouth that would not shut, but I was frightened of any fight. Thank God for Bob.
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