Lisa;
You need to know that our reconnection has been equally cathartic for me as well. I have had no one to share the great times I had with my best childhood friend. No one else could even begin to understand the loss we both have shared and kept quietly inside us for so many years.
Yes, Marc and I listened to hours of Jazz together. I am not sure if it was the same apartment, however, he would be studying for nursing school and I would sit and listen to the hours of Jazz in a dimly lit room while he toiled over the books. I was so proud of him and wanted to be just like him when I grew up. I worked at St Thomas at the time and hated going to Firestone. I would leave his place to work the night shift as an orderly. I tried to work as many extra shifts as possible just to keep from going home to my parent’s house on Merriman Rd. Often I would sleep on the top floor of the hospital where they kept the extra beds. No one ever came up there and I could keep to my solitude. Quite often I would just stay there during the morning rather than go to school. Marc knew that and worried about me, but trusted that I knew what I was doing. He only encouraged me to get high grades. He was so smart and did well at Hoban High as well as nursing school.
I remember Marc and I going to a coffee shop near Kent State and seeing a young girl sing a Paul Simon song, Cloudy. It was my first introduction to a coffee house and gave me the impetus to later take up playing the guitar while stationed in Berlin, Germany. We also went to a Jazz club, not remembering where. I felt so grown up and cool hanging out with my friend who seemed to know so much about the world. To this day, I love a piano bar, with Jazz in the background and looking out over the water in Florida. I so miss Marc when I communicate with you. Men don’t cry, but my eyes are sweating a bit right now.
One summer’s day Marc showed up in his MG Midget and said he had just gotten his income tax return. I had also gotten mine. We decided to go on a road trip together. I know I wasn’t eighteen yet and he was because we ended up in New York state and Marc was worried about me being underage to drive his car. We drove to Buffalo and crossed into Canada, my first crossing that probably led to my later move to Canada for over forty-five years. I remember us arriving in Toronto and buying a hot dog at what is known there as Exhibition Place. The vendor told me I had to pay him $1.25 US for a $1.00 C$ hot dog. I was amazed that a foreign currency could be worth MORE than the almighty US$.
From Toronto, we headed to Montreal and broke into a place called Old Fort Henry on the Saint Lawrence River on the way. We found a secluded entrance and snuck in during the night to look around rather than pay the entrance fee during the day. We didn’t take anything but felt like great adventurers. By the time we got to Montreal, Marc had some really bad infection going on so we went to the ER where they did not speak English. Eventually, Marc convinced them to give him a prescription for an antibiotic and we decided to head back to the US where they spoke English. Marc was so sick that he didn’t mind that I was underage to drive the MG.
I found a park in the middle of the night in New York, got our sleeping bags out and we crashed, not having any idea where we were. I kept dreaming that it was raining all night. When we woke up and looked around I had parked on some grass and put out sleeping bags about twenty feet from a fountain that sprayed mist over us while we slept. Eventually, we made our way to New York City, our first time there in either of our lives. It had been three weeks since we had contacted our parents and it went like this for both of us as we phoned home from the first floor of the Empire State Building after three weeks. Hi, mom! (mothers) Where have you been and where are you? We are in the Empire State Building in downtown New York City. (mothers) Seriously, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? Seriously, we are in a phone booth on the first floor of the Empire State Building and are about to go up to the top floor to look out. Needless to say, they were both relieved that we were alive, at the same time I was really glad we were not in the same room with them. I know, awful kids. If my daughter had ever done anything that foolish, I would be so upset. Not letting them know where we were was not a smart idea.
I remember before we headed out, we went to the Ciriello & Sons bar and put a case of Coke in the small trunk of the MG along with two sleeping bags and clothes stuffed into paper bags. We must have told Angelo that we were headed out. I remember him being at the bar at the time. Who was that waitress that worked there at the time? I remember bussing tables there for tips and her repeatedly telling me that a busboy was not some kid waiting for a bus and to get those tables cleaned. To this day, I can smell the kitchen and the dark, dank stairway to the basement where extra supplies were kept. I remember being allowed to make salads up in advance and staying late to clean up.
Another story for another time was when we went to the Cathedral of Tomorrow for a night service, just to get the experience/
By the way, I have learned to play some Jazz guitar. I own a Martin and Guild acoustic, a hollow body Jazz guitar and a twelve string. plus a Banjo. This is me playing a song at my great, great grandfather’s grave in the Andersonville, Georgia Cemetery where he died after being captured during the Civil War. That guitar has been with me nearly fifty years.
Well, darling, I have an appointment at 7:30 am at the VA clinic in Durham and should put my head down.
Much love and respect.
James Wm.