Snippitts of Illusions

Remembering the past that was.

It's been rough. Not gonna lie. Last year, two days before Thanksgiving my mother passed away. It took the winds out of my creative sails so to speak. Sails that were only getting a light breeze any way.
Five days ago a friend of my childhood died. Today they buried that little bit of my youth. His youth.

Kevin and I had never been really close, but during our early years we did spend a good deal of time playing together at my sisters' (their husbands were his uncles. Yes, two of my sisters married two brothers from the same family. Odd these days, but it was common enough at one time.)

Summer time was the time we hung out. My sister would drive her three-wheeler through the "hills" using old pipe roads and trails that barely qualified as tracks in spot, to come pick me up from the house and take me up to hers. It was rough, but fun and the ride was thrilling in spots, at least for a 9 year old or 10 year old. Kevin would often times be there already, and we'd "help" my brother in law with odd jobs he was working on, or go and play finding some small trouble to get into. Later, when I got a little older Kevin would come and pick me up on the three wheeler. I'd ride behind him, typically clutching him around the chest, nervous I would fall off on some of the more hair-raising spots on our journey. I think that annoyed him, but he never said anything about it.

Aside from joking with my brother in laws, or swimming at the lake not to far from my sister's house, or riding the three-wheeler, there are two memories that stand out with Kevin: The first happened one of the first times we got to play together. We were at his grandpa's and grandma's which sits at the end of a small draw. There are hills and cliffs on either side of the house, as well as the draw itself which extends behind the house to the top of the hills. Kevin and I would climb up the cliffs to the north, which weren't terribly high, but to me seemed like a regular mountain. We climbed and explored the hills for an hour or two, but that soon wore thin and we both became quite bored. It wasn't long before Kevin found something to keep us occupied for a short while. There were cans of paint, I don't remember where exactly, but they were old. It didn't seem like there was much of hike to get them up the cliff, so they may have been close by. Nobody noticed us with them regardless and we got them to the top of the one cliff and proceeded to open them and dump them down the side of the cliff. It was mostly a curiosity thing I think. The paint was fascinating flowing down the side of the cliff, and we both agreed that it was very cool. Time has got away from me, but it seems like there was mostly red, yellow and white (though that may just be me projecting current colors into my past, it may have only been white.) Well despite how awesome we thought the activity was, everyone else disagreed. We got into some trouble for that. I don't remember regretting it though. There still seems to be a faint stain on those cliffs today.

The second memory is one of the times we were at my sister's house in Bluebell. We decided to build a little mud house, for fun. We gathered rocks and water and stack the rocks up, plastering them with mud. We did this for quite some time. I remember Kevin trying to catch lizards so the fictional people that lived in the mud house would have something to eat. He killed one, crushed it with a rock, another lost it's tail, which fascinated us, how it still twitched even though there was no body attached to it.

Kevin's mom, who had divorced his dad, eventually remarried and they all moved to Price. He would still appear during the summers, but once we both got into junior high our interests were wildly different. That was the case once we become grown men. We led separate lives, and it seems his life was good. He had a daughter, and cared for his friends and his family a great deal. He struggled with things, like we all do, but he managed. He moved back to this area some time ago and lived and worked on the oil field. He made a lot of good friends working out there, and it seems that he tried to take care of them too.

I'd seen him a few times over the last few years, since I've been back to Roosevelt. Usually at weddings or birthday parties for common family members. Each time he was quiet with the little smile he always seemed to have. We didn't find a lot of to talk about. Which is too bad, I should have made more of an effort. I know a few of my nieces and nephews were very close to him and I'm sad that I didn't try and get to know him better as the man he had become, instead of just remembering the past that was.

posted by F.G. Shaw @ 6:56 PM