I wrote some notes on facebook today and decided to post them here. They ended up rather long together and I know I have a tendency to skip over very long posts unless I’m really intersted in them.

Childhood Friends and That Sort of Thing

This afternoon I was walking to work through downtown and I was rather lost in thought when I recognized an old friend who used to walk up and down my street when we were younger. I remember the friendship started off well - he would say strange (to me) things and I remember calling him to myself Retardo (I thought his last name was Ricardo, so it fit to me.)

Then one day when he walked by I decided to be nice and asked him how he was. And then we were friends of sorts and we talked about guitars a little, since we both played and I would sit out on the porch with my guitar some days. And one day when he walked by me on the street he said “Hey, will you go out with me?” and I laughed and said no.

Then we parted - I think his life took him to a place that no one wants to go to. Unless you are trying to get free room and board from the state and have the nuisance of a lock on your room door.

And I bumped into him sometime last year, and then this year again I saw him just now, and we talked for about 20 minutes.

Now as I sit to ponder this, I’m recalling other childhood friends and acquaintances - Chelsey, who watched Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and couldn’t go out of her house because of the bugs (so she told me. So I watched TMNT through the screen of her livingroom.) And there was the one who nicknamed me Bunny, and had an older brother who looked just like him.

I suppose I could list a bunch out, but they wouldn’t be of particular interest to you. We grew up in the same neighborhood, though we rarely hung out together. They all knew us, though. We are somewhat of an anomaly on our street. Some of them were 14 and 15 when I knew them, and I’d watch them walk up and down the street in big groups and I’d wonder about them. And now they have boyfriends and babies, some have been in and out of jail, and now live in apartments somewhere else and I hardly ever see them, if I ever do.

I wonder what they remember of me.

Did you have any notable childhood friends? Who do you remember?

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I remember an old man who lived with some friends of ours - a couple and their daughter - who used to be a trucker. He used to tell us stories of evading the police with his brakes wired to his gas pedal, and driving overloaded through weigh stations without getting in trouble. He came to one of our concerts, once, and his shoe had a big hole in the end of it. He said he was a nickel short when he went to the store to buy them. He thought I could think, and I admired him so that was a huge compliment to me.

And Mrs. Tillburg is a feeling and a voice. I remember what she looks like, but I remember better what she sounded like. She used to do a lot of cooking at the church we went to and the best images I have of her are of her in an apron.

Mrs. Kellog used to give me Reeces peanut butter cups after church. I don’t remember anything of what she looked like except that she was old, and I couldn’t believe she gave me peanut butter cups!

I’d better stop here because I’m starting to fall into general church memories, and I’m guessing most of those will soon feel stale and boring even to the most patient reader, if I have not bored them already.

There are way too many to list, and these people that I’m thinking of have all passed away. I wonder what people will remember of me when I’ve passed away.

Memories are very strange. So ingrained, yet so fragile upon further examination.

Posted by Bonnie under Uncategorized