A Long Way Home
I don't have the energy to change the name. And. It would be a disservice to the memory.
My memory.
Half drunk. June 2005. Standing in front of the Sand Springs Municipal Golf Course of my youth which is now called Canyons At Blackjack Ridge. Or something close to that. I had my first job there. Fifteen years old. Full of promise. Paid in cash because I was too young to legally work.
"Here." Jimmy said as he shoved his senior year, my senior year, yearbook at me. He looked like so many of my youth. Wrangler jeans. Tight. Big ass rodeo belt buckle. Snap button cowboy style shirt. And a cowboy hat. Always the cowboy hat.
I took it. And smiled. Close to laughing. Thinking he was joking. Or at least fucking with me.
I finally took a long drink from my beer, mainly to stall, to figure out what was actually happening.
"Sign it." He said.
"Really?!?" I asked. Incredulously.
Jimmy didn't reply. He just gave me a hard, squinty stare.
"Ok." I said. "But I don't have a pen."
"Here." Jimmy said as he shoved a bic pen with ample teeth marks on the end at me.
And there, on a beautiful June evening, in front of what had been the Sand Springs municipal golf course, the 37 year old version of aboynamedstu signed Jimmy Weaver's yearbook 20 years and one month after we graduated high school.
I don't remember what I wrote.
I just remember later that night, Jimmy asking My Lovely Bride to dance. And she did. They were one of the few couples to dance that night.
Jimmy Weaver was shot in the chest a year or so ago. Killed. Domestic violence. He left two kids behind I understand. Their mother, I think, on trial for killing their father.
I went through grade school with Jimmy Weaver. He was in many of my classes from first grade through fourth or fifth. In junior high and high school we went different ways. Not that we were ever close friends. Just two kids from different worlds in a small town.
My Lovely Bride said Jimmy was an asshole. And shared some things he said about me. I don't know if he was an asshole. Or what he really thought about me. All I know is that he looked me in the eye, without the hint of irony and asked me to sign his yearbook 20 years after the fact. Which, as it turned out, nearly five years later, is the most memorable thing that happened to me at my 20th high school reunion.
Until I BLOG again...Don't look inside. No, don't look there, 'Cause you might find, Yourself somewhere.
My memory.
Half drunk. June 2005. Standing in front of the Sand Springs Municipal Golf Course of my youth which is now called Canyons At Blackjack Ridge. Or something close to that. I had my first job there. Fifteen years old. Full of promise. Paid in cash because I was too young to legally work.
"Here." Jimmy said as he shoved his senior year, my senior year, yearbook at me. He looked like so many of my youth. Wrangler jeans. Tight. Big ass rodeo belt buckle. Snap button cowboy style shirt. And a cowboy hat. Always the cowboy hat.
I took it. And smiled. Close to laughing. Thinking he was joking. Or at least fucking with me.
I finally took a long drink from my beer, mainly to stall, to figure out what was actually happening.
"Sign it." He said.
"Really?!?" I asked. Incredulously.
Jimmy didn't reply. He just gave me a hard, squinty stare.
"Ok." I said. "But I don't have a pen."
"Here." Jimmy said as he shoved a bic pen with ample teeth marks on the end at me.
And there, on a beautiful June evening, in front of what had been the Sand Springs municipal golf course, the 37 year old version of aboynamedstu signed Jimmy Weaver's yearbook 20 years and one month after we graduated high school.
I don't remember what I wrote.
I just remember later that night, Jimmy asking My Lovely Bride to dance. And she did. They were one of the few couples to dance that night.
Jimmy Weaver was shot in the chest a year or so ago. Killed. Domestic violence. He left two kids behind I understand. Their mother, I think, on trial for killing their father.
I went through grade school with Jimmy Weaver. He was in many of my classes from first grade through fourth or fifth. In junior high and high school we went different ways. Not that we were ever close friends. Just two kids from different worlds in a small town.
My Lovely Bride said Jimmy was an asshole. And shared some things he said about me. I don't know if he was an asshole. Or what he really thought about me. All I know is that he looked me in the eye, without the hint of irony and asked me to sign his yearbook 20 years after the fact. Which, as it turned out, nearly five years later, is the most memorable thing that happened to me at my 20th high school reunion.
Until I BLOG again...Don't look inside. No, don't look there, 'Cause you might find, Yourself somewhere.
Comments
Post a Comment