The Way it was Then - Part #11

 

June 3, 1983

Only Rod Serling was missing

The boy’s face was familiar.

So familiar, in fact, that I almost called him by name.

But the name would have been wrong, because it belonged, not to the young man, but to his father.

Roll back twenty-four years, and it was his father.

Then I saw his father.

He looked older … like I do. After all, twenty-four years since high school graduation … nearly a quarter of a century … there are bound to be changes. But his face was unmistakable.

Anthony, Jr. could have passed for Babe, his dad, if those years hadn’t gotten in the way.

 Just like people tell me my daughters look like I did way back when.

It was eerie, like something out of Twilight Zone.

The occasion was Mike DeNardo’s graduation party, thrown by his mother, Lois (two years ahead of me in school) and father Mike (somewhere further ahead yet). I knew I’d see young Mike’s grandmother and even counted on a chat with his aunts, both also high school contemporaries, but nothing prepared me to come face to face with Babe.

He did as we all knew he would … he succeeded. Not in some glamorous, flashy way that made everyone envy his good fortune or his fame … he simply made a success of his life.

Happily married, two healthy, handsome sons, a good position with IBM, a long-worked-for college degree. All the outward trappings of success.

But we knew Babe would make it because of what was inside.

He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable.

Oh sure, there were the practical jokes, Like the time he and another classmate “borrowed” my car keys and kept me begging for their return till past my curfew (Dad new Babe, so he wasn’t very angry).

But there were never angry times … never any bad feelings left from an encounter with Babe. He was gentle, kind and always ready to be on hand when someone needed a lift, a good word, a friend.

We reminisced a bit during the party and exchanged addresses. We remarked how little either of us had changed. We said all the things people say to one another when they meet after eons.

We kept repeating how good it was to see one another. For me, though, it was more than good. It brought me back to the times when life was filled with the uncertainty of growing up … with the pain of adolescence.

Seeing Babe again made me remember the very bad times in my teenage years … and the very good ones, too.

Always, Babe was part of the good ones.

I hope to see him again before another twenty-five years get in the way. Then, since I’ve sorted it all through and know why the glow sort of hung around long after the reunion was past, I can tell him how much I treasured his friendship back then.

We don’t always get a chance to meet up with someone who was good for us when we needed good.

The least we can do is put our feelings into words.

Age has caused me to forget the exact year we lost Babe, but it was too soon, no matter when it happened.