Immortality
This morning, my friend Skot, called with the sad news that one of our closest friends had been worn-down and defeated in his year-long battle with cancer. Bob had undergone every conceivable cancer treatment possible, including some experimental therapy at City of Hope, but his body was no longer able to fulfill its obligation. He passed away last night around midnight.
I find myself thinking a lot about the times Bob and I were able to share.
Like me, Bob was an avid rock-and-roller, music hound and collected records, and more recently was growing his CD and DVD collection. Being children of the 50's, we found our maturity together in late 60's high school. Our tastes in music were eerily aligned. He introduced me to Pink Floyd, Status Quo and Deep Purple. We listened to Quicksilver Messenger Service's "Happy Trails" album continuously in the high-school library at lunch. He's the only one of my close friends that bought a Mott the Hoople album on his own - in fact, he owned two of them. We worked at Tastee Freez together. We took the same drafting and graphic art classes. We shared creative juices. There must have been 10-15 years that Bob, Skot, Dave, Craig and I would spend 3 or 4 days camping in the Sierras - doing that annual male-bonding thing - acting like kids, singing "The Theme From Bangladesh" at the top of our lungs, playing wiffle ball at 10,000 feet, and throwing dozens of 501 Super Dupers into the frozen lakes and tarns in an attempt to catch a rainbow or brown. And this doesn't even scratch the surface...
We must have shared some brain-DNA - we just "clicked". Ever since we first became friends in 6th grade, our auras have been connected - even if there are a few years without making contact with each other. When Joy called us a year ago, to let us know of Bob's condition, we reconnected and began finishing the sentences we started years earlier.
Over the last year, the group got together a number of times to reminisce.
Fortunately, two weeks ago my wife, Sherry, and I were able to spend a quiet evening with he and Joy, his loving and caring wife of 27 years. We ate KFC, talked records, and backpacking, and cars, and relived shared memories from those many years ago as if they were yesterday. We didn't talk about the present - but cherished the past and penciled in our next get together.
That evening will close the final chapter of our shared lives - but its not over.
Do you know that feeling you get, when you hear a certain song on the radio, and you think back to a specific time and place, and who was there, and what you were doing, what you were smelling, and how you were feeling?
Well, I plan on listening to my Quicksilver, Mothers of Invention, Spooky Tooth, and Wishbone Ash albums, and remembering; and smiling.
Hope you are tuned into the same frequency, Bob, and be sure to let me know if you have any requests. The turntable is always ready.
I find myself thinking a lot about the times Bob and I were able to share.
Like me, Bob was an avid rock-and-roller, music hound and collected records, and more recently was growing his CD and DVD collection. Being children of the 50's, we found our maturity together in late 60's high school. Our tastes in music were eerily aligned. He introduced me to Pink Floyd, Status Quo and Deep Purple. We listened to Quicksilver Messenger Service's "Happy Trails" album continuously in the high-school library at lunch. He's the only one of my close friends that bought a Mott the Hoople album on his own - in fact, he owned two of them. We worked at Tastee Freez together. We took the same drafting and graphic art classes. We shared creative juices. There must have been 10-15 years that Bob, Skot, Dave, Craig and I would spend 3 or 4 days camping in the Sierras - doing that annual male-bonding thing - acting like kids, singing "The Theme From Bangladesh" at the top of our lungs, playing wiffle ball at 10,000 feet, and throwing dozens of 501 Super Dupers into the frozen lakes and tarns in an attempt to catch a rainbow or brown. And this doesn't even scratch the surface...
We must have shared some brain-DNA - we just "clicked". Ever since we first became friends in 6th grade, our auras have been connected - even if there are a few years without making contact with each other. When Joy called us a year ago, to let us know of Bob's condition, we reconnected and began finishing the sentences we started years earlier.
Over the last year, the group got together a number of times to reminisce.
Fortunately, two weeks ago my wife, Sherry, and I were able to spend a quiet evening with he and Joy, his loving and caring wife of 27 years. We ate KFC, talked records, and backpacking, and cars, and relived shared memories from those many years ago as if they were yesterday. We didn't talk about the present - but cherished the past and penciled in our next get together.
That evening will close the final chapter of our shared lives - but its not over.
Do you know that feeling you get, when you hear a certain song on the radio, and you think back to a specific time and place, and who was there, and what you were doing, what you were smelling, and how you were feeling?
Well, I plan on listening to my Quicksilver, Mothers of Invention, Spooky Tooth, and Wishbone Ash albums, and remembering; and smiling.
Hope you are tuned into the same frequency, Bob, and be sure to let me know if you have any requests. The turntable is always ready.
posted by the epiclectic at 5:03 PM
4 Comments:
At Bob's service yesterday, Dave, Craig, Skot and I shared our memories of Bob with the hundreds of friends and family that attended - everyone wearing their bright Hawaiian shirts. (Bob was never seen without a Hawaiian shirt on.) The feeling was wonderful - a real celebration of life.
I shared how music played such an important part in our friendship - and mentioned our Quicksilver Messenger Service listenings of "Happy Trails".
If you didn't know, the album closes with their version of the old Roy Roger’s theme song. I was able to read the lyrics without breaking down:
Some trails are happy ones,
Others are blue.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts,
Here's a happy one for you.
Happy trails to you,
Until we meet again.
Happy trails to you,
Keep smilin' until then.
Who cares about the clouds when we're together?
Just sing a song, and bring the sunny weather.
Happy trails to you,
Til we meet again.
I felt it was important to leave a copy of the album with Bob to accompany him in his journey.
A moving tribute to a good man. Though I had only seen Bob maybe twice in the last 30 years, each time it was as if no time had passed. He was that comfortable with others and with himself. He retained a feeling of youth mixed with his adulthood that somehow ended up not being adolescent. The responsible Bohemian in the Hawaiian shirt.
I have spent my entire adult life around death (lifeguard, firefighter, paramedic, geriatrician, hospice physician), yet Bob's death affected me more than I expected. Particularly for someone I had not seen in over a decade. Just a reminder of my own mortality? Maybe, though the cancer my wife had (and thankfully recovered from) and other contemporaries have suffered should have prepared me.
A good reminder to us all of how fleeting is life and how unimportant most of the "important" things in it are.
Sorry to hear about the lost of your compadre Steve.....but packing a Quicksilver album was a very cool way to say goodbye. I hope when my number comes up someone thinks enough of me to pack a few of the ones that made the biggest impact in my life. Bob was a lucky man to have such a good friend that would do what you did......
I wasn't as fortunate as you to have such good friends during the high school daze.....I was pretty much a loner back then, spent all my time listening to records and playing my guitar. Now here we are 35+ years later and wondering what happened to all that time in between.
"It's the way you ride the trail that counts" Indeed!
I think I'll pull out my Quicksilver albums and dedicate an hour or two to your friend's memory. I haven't listened to "Gold & Silver" in quite awhile and there's no time like now....
TC
I just found out about Bob's passing a few weeks ago, and I'm trying to figure out why it has shaken me so profoundly. It's just that the last time I saw Bob was at HS graduation, I think. We were just kids then. Just kids. And though 37 years have passed, and it seems like a lifetime, it also seems like no time at all. To know that this kid, this friend I once knew, grew up, lived a great life, and is now gone from us...it tears at my heart. I find myself grieving about him often, and wishing I'd kept in touch with such a great guy all these years. I can't change that now. But I can change how I treat my other friends from throughout my life, distant and present, and treasure them as great gifts that they are. Bob, you may never know it, but you have touched my life even now, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And I miss you very much.--Tom Bishow
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