I, Artist part 2, the echo of an echo
Hello Dear Reader,
As I stated I am from the Magic City. My father who summers there and who has a great deal of free time on his hands reads articles and the obits from the Akron Beacon Journal and passes along any points of interest. A recent email contained notice that a friend had passed away in his sleep. I had not seen this guy since 1975 when 5 deaths in 6 months amongst the small circle of friends I had in High School sent me seeking some form of resolve. I was just sure death was saving me for last...that its' touch would be coming soon and I had some unfinished business in Magic City. I sought him out, and we traded friendly insults, as guys do and briefly got caught up. I had changed and so had he. While in College I went to the Magic City for holiday's and events, a couple of funerals, but never had the time to seek out the people I had been close to. Any more I go there to see family and if I'm in the mood, go and re live some of the happy/horror moments of my time there. I think of Barberton as the crucible of my life.
This guy was pretty typical of the boys around me, wide doughy face, Eastern European ancestry, attempting to understand the changes in the world from our little back water but still stuck in the Magic City. This is the guy that I slept in a tent with in my back yard. This is the guy who helped me refine my kite flying technique. This is the guy who talked me into joining his boy scout troop, this is the guy who dragged me to presence of a girl I was enamored with and introduced me cause he was tired of listening to me moon on about her. This is the guy who helped me get even with a bully that had been giving me a hard time. This is the guy when I dare to remember my childhood, that I settle on. This is the guy that nudged me out of the little circle of my life to attempt and be whatever I was required to be. I know little of his life since we were both on the other side of adolescence. I know he stayed within driving distance of home, where I have moved to locals as far from it as I could get, but always returned to smell the air, see the marks, examine the scars travel the paths. He kept many of the friends he made as a child. I wouldn't know many of these people if they stood in front of me, my friends are ones I have gathered like my tools, what I needed where I could find them. We both were unmarried, although I don't know if he had climbed the married mountain and had tumbled off as so many do. I seem to have been spared that adventure. His obit was brief, leaving many questions unanswered...like an Irish Saga, one ends with as many questions as one began with, it was a simple notice to tell the world that he wouldn't be showing up to work, that his mail would go unanswered, that the phone was turned off cause he wouldn't be answering it. He was no longer in the building. His mark was a small one left on those he encountered. Did he love? Did he dream? Did he go to Mexico to see the butterflies? Did he stand in front of Great Pyramid and see what Napoleon saw? Did he walk amongst the dead under Paris or have his entrails shook when the organ at Notre Dame hit one of the low notes? Did he stand in front of the works of great men and contemplate their lives? Wandered in the footsteps of Da Vinci, Balzac or Aristotle? I don't know, I have done most of these things...and as he was willing to share his experience with me as a child, I guess that the swatches of color that have encapsulated my life must have to color his life too. To make him a part of my life, to share my history with him. Sharing is what one has friends for...to borrow, to lend, to give and accept. I mentioned the girl that he dragged me in front of and introduced me to. She was another one of the ghosts that wander my mind. I found her again, and yeah Joe, this time I introduced myself...You were right. Farewell my friend, the next time I drag out the bottle of the good stuff, I'll drink to your memory, and the adventures we had before we realized that the world was a very big place and that our little magic city was like many. Good luck and maintain.
As I stated I am from the Magic City. My father who summers there and who has a great deal of free time on his hands reads articles and the obits from the Akron Beacon Journal and passes along any points of interest. A recent email contained notice that a friend had passed away in his sleep. I had not seen this guy since 1975 when 5 deaths in 6 months amongst the small circle of friends I had in High School sent me seeking some form of resolve. I was just sure death was saving me for last...that its' touch would be coming soon and I had some unfinished business in Magic City. I sought him out, and we traded friendly insults, as guys do and briefly got caught up. I had changed and so had he. While in College I went to the Magic City for holiday's and events, a couple of funerals, but never had the time to seek out the people I had been close to. Any more I go there to see family and if I'm in the mood, go and re live some of the happy/horror moments of my time there. I think of Barberton as the crucible of my life.
This guy was pretty typical of the boys around me, wide doughy face, Eastern European ancestry, attempting to understand the changes in the world from our little back water but still stuck in the Magic City. This is the guy that I slept in a tent with in my back yard. This is the guy who helped me refine my kite flying technique. This is the guy who talked me into joining his boy scout troop, this is the guy who dragged me to presence of a girl I was enamored with and introduced me cause he was tired of listening to me moon on about her. This is the guy who helped me get even with a bully that had been giving me a hard time. This is the guy when I dare to remember my childhood, that I settle on. This is the guy that nudged me out of the little circle of my life to attempt and be whatever I was required to be. I know little of his life since we were both on the other side of adolescence. I know he stayed within driving distance of home, where I have moved to locals as far from it as I could get, but always returned to smell the air, see the marks, examine the scars travel the paths. He kept many of the friends he made as a child. I wouldn't know many of these people if they stood in front of me, my friends are ones I have gathered like my tools, what I needed where I could find them. We both were unmarried, although I don't know if he had climbed the married mountain and had tumbled off as so many do. I seem to have been spared that adventure. His obit was brief, leaving many questions unanswered...like an Irish Saga, one ends with as many questions as one began with, it was a simple notice to tell the world that he wouldn't be showing up to work, that his mail would go unanswered, that the phone was turned off cause he wouldn't be answering it. He was no longer in the building. His mark was a small one left on those he encountered. Did he love? Did he dream? Did he go to Mexico to see the butterflies? Did he stand in front of Great Pyramid and see what Napoleon saw? Did he walk amongst the dead under Paris or have his entrails shook when the organ at Notre Dame hit one of the low notes? Did he stand in front of the works of great men and contemplate their lives? Wandered in the footsteps of Da Vinci, Balzac or Aristotle? I don't know, I have done most of these things...and as he was willing to share his experience with me as a child, I guess that the swatches of color that have encapsulated my life must have to color his life too. To make him a part of my life, to share my history with him. Sharing is what one has friends for...to borrow, to lend, to give and accept. I mentioned the girl that he dragged me in front of and introduced me to. She was another one of the ghosts that wander my mind. I found her again, and yeah Joe, this time I introduced myself...You were right. Farewell my friend, the next time I drag out the bottle of the good stuff, I'll drink to your memory, and the adventures we had before we realized that the world was a very big place and that our little magic city was like many. Good luck and maintain.
posted by ak at 7:18 AM
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