Stephen was only 12 when we first met in 1960. He was small with blond curls and soft blue eyes that sparkled when he spoke…his feet were much too big for his frame but gave evidence of the man he would become. He was the youngest in a family of 6 with two brothers who seldom knew he existed.
In 1963 we all lived in Camelot and followed a young man from Massachusetts. ”Ask not what your country can do for you…ask what you can do for your country.” He spoke and we listened. He led us to embrace a new era in America and we all felt that God himself had waved his hand over the land and we were on the threshold of something new and wonderful.
For one brief shinning moment there was a spot known as Camelot…
Then on a sunny morning in Dallas in 1963 Camelot came to an end. We wept as we watched a young lad salute the passing caissons carrying his father to rest. We were suddenly lost as a nation.
I was only 19 and living in a small one bedroom cottage that I rented from Emile Jaros, Stephen’s father.
Each afternoon Stephen would race home from Timberlane Elementary school and drop his books on his way to my front door. “Can you come out and play?” He called.
We bonded immediately. When it got to hot to play we drank ice cold bottles of Masons Root Beer. When the snow came we bundled up and kept going…each day was filled with a new adventure.
Early one Saturday morning I stepped out on my porch and there stood Stephen surrounded by several of his friends…all smiling and waiting for me. We formed a brotherhood that summer that lasted until I moved back to Mississippi two years later.
The years flew by and we all loss contact with each other. Larry Southerland graduated from Ohio State and went to work for the state of Ohio. Gary Wick became a sheriff and was seldom seen. Johnny Fegal moved New Jersey where he opened his own business…Stephen excelled in all sports and was courted by several colleges to play basketball. He signed with no one.
As I look back I was only 19 when we played behind his father’s home and made memories that would forever be a part of who we are. I returned to Mississippi and married a beautiful girl who gave us a son named Chase. Then 30 years later she held my hands smiled at me from her hospital bed and closed her eyes. I was once again alone. My mind searched back over a life filled with so many memories and I found myself with Stephen in 1963 playing in my front yard. I knew I had to find him.
He’s still living in Dayton Ohio in the same community of Northridge just blocks from where we played and thought we would forever be young. He could hardly speak when I said, “do you want to shoot some baskets?” His voice sounded the same and I could hardly hold back the tears as we talked. The minutes became hours and we relived every moment possible that made up those two short years. “We need to get together,” I said. “I’m in a struggle with cancer and I don’t want to wait.”
I landed in Dayton and stood next to my bags looking for a 12 year old with blond curls instead a saw an old man with thin hair waving to me. He still walks with an air of pride and his soft blue eyes still sparkle when he speaks. We hugged and wept knowing that we both had let to much time pass.
The next 5 days we went to the old cottage where it all began so many years ago.
Stephen underwent open heart surgery in 2006. He carries a huge scar on his chest as a reminder of what almost happened.
His wife Barbara is the apple of his eye and the rudder that keeps their craft running smooth. “She's the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Time for leaving came and we stood at the same airport wondering when we would see each other again. We hugged and he said, “You are the brother I should have had.” I responded, “You are the brother I never had.” We were two old men who journeyed back in time when one was 12 and the other was 19. A time when we thought we would live forever.
“I’ll be down to see you in the fall, “ He said. I stood motionless…and for a brief moment I saw a blond haired little boy with sparkling blue eyes waving to me and I cried all the way home.
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Reviewed by 000 000
1/10/2009
You were blessed as you were allowed to re-live some of your past. Your story reminded me of the series-Without a trace-They always flashback to the character as a young person. You are a good storyteller and do not drag out the small details..but still you include enough for our minds to picture the scene!
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