Today I am thinking about someone who I haven’t thought of in a very long time. I will call him Troy. I pick this name to suggest his appearance because his style reminds me of Troy Donahue, teen idol from the 60’s.

Troy always wore denim jeans, penny loafers (with no pennies) and white tee shirts. And like Troy Donahue, he was tall and lean. We shared everything. He was my neighbor, living just a few houses from mine so we were together almost everyday. We understood each other. We shared so much. We spent hours just lying beside each other on his bed, drinking sodas and watching tv or just being happy and feeling the comfort of having someone with whom no explanation was necessary. We looked at each other and smiled, laughed at how it seemed that actually, nothing needed to be said. We recognized how we may have seemed to others. We laughed at that too. We shared rites of passage that we both protected each other from, somehow.

A Call of the Wild written by Jack London, was a grammar school reading assignment. The story inspired us so Troy and I decided to take a walk during a gently falling snow. We ventured toward the woods, imagining the storyline for ourselves. Troy wore a denim jacket and boots. I was more appropriately dressed for the season. We talked and walked until at some point I realized the snow was more intense and that we would have to walk as far as we had come in order to get back home. We headed back as the snow intensified. Troy took the lead as the space between us grew. But we remained focused on each other. He waited for me to catch up so that he could wave good bye as I passed his house. My house was just ahead. I collapsed in front of the heater in the foyer, cold and exhausted. Glancing in my direction with a hint of knowing I’d been up to something, Mother only reminded me to be prepared for supper. And as usual, I was.

When the Beatles came on the scene, Troy and I were totally blown away. From my black and white radio, one night before school, I heard The Beatles for first time on the Hy Lit radio program. I was sure Troy was listening too. The next day, as soon as school was over, I ran to his house. When he opened the door he knew why I was there. We had the same response. “Who are these guys??” We were hooked.

Troy and I knew each other’s heart. We were so much alike in so many ways. We were together as much as our parent’s would allow. We didn’t annoy each other like friends can do at times. We never had an argument. As close as we were, our relationship never ventured beyond friendship. We never seemed curious about or the need for anything more. Most relationships are based on something specific, it seems. But with us, it was everything about him and everything about me. We truly understood and loved each other, untarnished, pure, and innocent. We laughed about everything and shared our dreams. He wanted to become a cowboy and he eventually moved to Montana and became a cowboy. I wanted to be a ballerina. Starting late in life, I became a ballet dancer. I remember wanting to share this with him but by then so much of life had transpired and we lost contact. But I know he would have smiled that wonderful smile and hug me if he knew.

When I heard this song by Bruce Springsteen I thought, “My gosh, this is us!!”

Bobbi Jean:

https://youtu.be/iGR_Rk74tOk?list=RDiGR_Rk74tOk

Char