As I get older, I seem to be spending more time reflecting on my youth. I don't mean the younger version of who I have become, but that little kid growing up on West Huron Street whose world was only as big as his two legs could take him.
One recent memory I had while out walking around the old neighborhood is of a kid I used to think of as my guardian angel. It wasn't a contract we had, or even a real friendship; I think he just liked to fight! Maybe he just had a keen sense of justice and wanted to protect this little dipshit that always found himself on the wrong side of trouble? Perhaps he had a crush on my sister? I'm not sure, but I do know I'm thankful for whatever the reason was because, without him, I might not be here to tell the tale!
This kid—we’ll call him Randy, because that’s his name—was about as Gen X as you could get as the 1970s rolled into the 80s. He was fit and lean with long, curly black hair. Most of the time he had on cut-off jean shorts, bare-chested with a t-shirt tucked in his back pocket just in case he needed to go into a store. Chuck Taylors on his feet, and on a good day, nunchucks in the other back pocket. I also remember him having a satin jacket with a bunch of patches, all related to the martial arts training we all assumed he'd received. Honestly, I never bothered to ask.
I mentioned he was like a guardian angel because, like a scene out of a good after-school movie, if I were getting picked on or about to get pummeled by some bully, he would magically appear. When I was 10 years old, he might as well have been Bruce Lee. He’d quickly dispatch his opponent—well, my opponent—then make sure I was okay, and then be on his way.
I would have been thankful if this had happened one time, but it happened probably a half-dozen or more times throughout my elementary school days. It wasn't a fluke; this kid was there for me, no doubt about it!
My favorite memory of Randy, however, has nothing to do with fighting or any kind of trouble whatsoever. It's a bit of an innocent enough coming-of-age story.
There was a motel in our neighborhood—a real old-style motor lodge—that had a swimming pool. If you played your cards right, you could jump in and take a quick dip and the management would be none the wiser. One hot summer night, Randy and I decided to try our luck. What happened next was one of those things that was like an answer to a prayer you weren't even aware your 14-year-old self had made. A truly remarkable thing that got burned into the very fabric of my mind.
As we approached the pool, we noticed a couple of girls right around our age hanging out on the lounge chairs. We figured, "What the hell?" So, we started talking, and for some reason, I remember they were traveling from Ohio. This fact is not relevant at all to the story but, as I said, it’s burned in.
Now you have to understand, this was a different time, and I suppose Randy and I looked innocent enough, but after some negotiation, it was decided that they were going to come for a walk with us. Who knows what we had in mind, because I'm sure neither of us had any money, and besides that, what the hell were we going to take them to do?
This is the part of the story where the magic happened though. They had to change out of their bathing suits into their street clothes. They invited us to walk them up to the room, and of course, Randy and I were gentlemen, so we waited for them out on the balcony. So this is the part you just can't make up… in their haste, they neglected to pull the curtain over the huge front window of the motel room! There they were, just like the good lord made them, taking off their swimsuits in full view. What I wouldn't give for a picture of our expressions, but I have a pretty good idea, and I'd bet you do too.
I have to be honest with you, I don't remember anything about the walk, but I still feel that kind of excitement and anticipation on a hot summer night. There is just something in the air that reminds me that the world is full of wonder if you just let yourself be present for it.
I never really saw Randy after that, save for a handful of times I'd see him walking around town in his usual getup. I was always happy knowing there was a guy like him out there should I ever need him, though.
Then, out of nowhere, one evening at a mutual friend’s party, in walked Randy. We hadn’t been in the same place since that evening at the pool some 35 years earlier. We talked about the old neighborhood and what we were up to, and then I brought it up. I was thrilled to find out that it had made the same impression on him. I was also happy to know I hadn't made the whole thing up!