The Boy I Knew

A prose for Jamie Jordan, a best friend growing up. He left too soon, July 20, 2021.

 

Cambay Lane, across the street, a best friend zero to eleven 
A buddy, experiencing life, everything from hell to heaven

Full participation, playing all out, giving our best, fully alive
All that could fit between 1963 and 1975
It was during these magic times, we lived, laughed and grew
This was Jamie Jordan … that’s the boy I knew
 

Early, as an infant I stopped breathing, I was rescued by his mom
There was Dale, Jim, Kris, Kim, Jamie – and a handful of animals that came along
Living next to the Fehners – Kathleen and us would dance to the Fifth Dimension
“The Age of Aquarius” was our tune, lemon drops taking most of our attention
Calling me out to play in the morning – no knock, no words – just bouncing a basketball
Collecting baseball cards, marbles, Slurpee cups – hey, why did he get them all?
Well, at least I got to keep the airplane made out of only three planks of wood
But wait! All the baseball cards, marbles, and Slurpee cups? Not good
Though, walking to school with the gang everyday, one time I forgot my lunch
I ran home to retrieve it – Jamie the only one to wait for me out of the bunch
I loved Terry Shannon; he loved Lori Franke, the red-haired girl
At the dentist office, he’d go in the bathroom and loudly pretend to hurl
His house had a family room and UHF and one of the first color TVs
Laying around all day on a lazy Saturday – doing as we pleased
Speed Racer, Little Rascals, Dennis the Menace, Sesame Street – whatever was on
I remember he liked the Carpenters’ “Top of the World” and Helen Reddy’s “Delta Dawn”
We loved the Dolphins and Dodgers, even wore the team’s colors, playing catch
We could get free baseball game tickets with enough Pepsi bottle caps 

Birthday parties, trick or treating, in my backyard we put on a show
Little Indian guides, Country Day, Chinger, Whitey and “Go Huffer Go”
A real and lethal bow and arrow – a Christmas gift he got
Into puddles of mud after the rain – slide, jump and flop
At his house, in the back, he had this cool tree house fort
We exploded the firecracker in our faces, the wick was just too short
Earning money for the Freedom fireworks, including the big King Kong
Putting water into my dad’s gas tank – man, what a ding dong
Slicing up some upholstery and my leg with a razor, that was pretty bad
He said that was the worst whoopin’ he ever got from his dad
Time would move swiftly along, yes time just flew
Jamie, from 0 – 11 … that’s the boy I knew 

 

And then there were all the sports and games, competing like a rival brother
We had to be on the same team, or we would have surely killed each other
A game of “pickle” on my lawn – the other kids would come to play
“Smear the queer” was downright violent – we could barely walk the next day
Playing basketball with his backboard … hmm, how can we clear the driveway?
Accidentally sending his mom’s car to the middle of Cambay
Mother May I, Red Light Green Light, freeze tag, kick ball
Five pitch, three flies up, 4-square, tetherball
Playing “interception” with Kathy, Glenn Lappin or maybe Mark Christie
Epic games of hide and seek … where the white light pole was “free”
Games were always fair, mostly fun-spirited and never mean
Though when you lost you had to go through the “spanking machine”
All those sporting competitions – man we both wanted to win
His fight with Clay Platt was cool; he kicked him right under the chin
Jamie was fiercely loyal; he would fight anyone to protect his own
Clete, Ruben and Billy – the Cubs little league team, playing at home
Then a funeral for Ruben, buried in his uniform – so young to die
Jim Jordan, Jamie’s dad, on the way there, saying: “It’s OK to cry”
 

We were hippy longhaired kids, inseparable … until things went bad
Spitting water over my head and laughing – it made me just so mad
Then a reunion the first day of 6^th grade – he came over to my house that day
I opened the door; he was always so simple – “Hey, do you want to come outside and play?”
One sad summer his family moved – only to Irvine … not too far?
Hmm, when you’re only 11 – it might as well be the moon or a distant star
The loss of a buddy, a competitor … no one would really understand
I’d have to let him go … to become the adult man
Yet memories can keep alive what time cannot do
Nothing with ever take away – Jamie Jordan, the boy I knew
The boy I knew