The First Boy in My Life

Memories. They rush in like a flood when I think of my childhood and my next door neighbor, John. He was the youngest of his family and I was the eldest in mine so our family positions were so different. John had two adult brothers and I had a three year old brother and a new sister. John's mom was on the tail end of her mothering career and my mom was at the beginning of her career. I am amazed when I think of the patience John's mother had for my daily visits. My first memories are of going to his house each day after school to watch "Howdy Doody", "Mickey Mouse Club" and Garfield Goose. The reason for my going to his house was that we didn't have a television and they did. The year was about 1950 and television was a new medium back then. I remember sitting on the floor in the small living room of our neighbors home soaking in those kid programs already thinking of coming back the next day for more of the M-i-c-k-e-y M-o-u-s-e song and of Frazier Thomas, the prime minister of the United States who served his King, Garfield Goose. Actually, Garfield never said a word, he clacked his beak and Frazier would interpret for him. Howdy Doody was a puppet that was activated by Big Bob Smith. Big Bob would open the show by greeting the viewers with a "Ho Ho Howdy Doody!". School children sold many television sets by sharing their show talk with fellow classmates. I think my friendship with John was cemented by sitting at his side watching those historic shows. One activity led to another as we explored ditches, built a tree house, and skipped stones on the river. On rainy days we worked in the basement of his house with his jigsaw and cut out patterns of horses, birds, and other things, which were then painted. When we wanted to prove our bravery, we went into the haymow of the barn on his place and jumped out the two story door. We had to make sure my mom wasn't watching though because the door was on the side of the barn she could see from our house and she would have stopped that dangerous fun. John introduced me to the interests of a boy. He was a good boy, not rough and tumble, but a genteel one. We remained friends inspite of others who would have torn us apart by scorn and tease. John invited me to his church's VBS and it was a highlight for me each summer. I loved the crafts we made and thoroughly enjoyed the refreshments each day. I think it was the first time I had Kool-Aid. I don't remember the Bible stories but I know they are imbedded in my mind. When we reached the preteen years, my dad decided it would be nice to invite John to go on vacation with us to a cabin on Silver Lake in Traverse City, Michigan. John's dad, a dear man, but one who saw teaching a boy work ethics as important, thought John should stay home and hoe the corn rows. Dad somehow convinced Sam to let the boy go for a nice time of rest and relaxation. We had a wonderful time those few days. My most vivid memory happened as we accompanied my dad into the town of Traverse City. Unknown to us the Cherry Festival was in full swing. Dad went to the hardware store for something and let the two of us explore the streets of the city. Suddenly two people came up and grabbed an arm of each of us. The question asked was, "Did you eat your cherry pie yet?" Being totally in the dark, we gulped and admitted our guilt. No, we hadn't had cherry pie yet, whatever that meant. We were escorted to a kangaroo court in the city square and pronounced "guilty". We had to serve a sentence of ten minutes in stocks. There were fears going through my head as I was bent over with my head and arms immovable. I worried that my dad may not be able to find us and worse yet, that he would be angry with us for disappearing. When we were finally released from the stocks and from our embarrassment, we were given small cherry pies to eat so that we would now be redeemed. I needn't have worried about my dad. We eventually found each other and listened to his deep chuckle as we explained our experience.
In our teen years we always knew what was going on with each other. One night a friend and I were riding with John and looking at a condemned house. The car died there and we had to walk to my home to get my dad to help. It was over a mile and it was night. I recall my dad, with tongue in cheek, giving John a very hard time about that night. If my dad had any worries about John's gentlemanly character, he need not have. In all the years of our friendship, John always treated me with respect and care. Not once was there even a suggestion of anything that wouldn't have been approved by my parents, his parents or by God Himself. John graduated a year ahead of me, went off to college and our paths seperated. He had a family, endured the breakup of a marriage, remarried an old sweetheart and I believe he is now very happy. At a recent reunion, we gave each other a warm hug. He asked me, "Why didn't you marry me?" I answered, "You didn't ask me." We laughed deeply knowing that we don't have to be married to love each other and enjoy the memories of our childhood. Thanks John for the memories. My life is richer for having you as my neighbor and friend.