Watering Plants
It was a badass crew (of junior high school kids).
The lineup included:
Yours truly-
A very regular attendee of after-school detention. If the principal’s office was Cheers, then I was Norm. You knew where to find me. Behind the thick glasses? An encyclopedic knowledge of Yo Momma jokes. Always ready to unleash a clever wisecrack at any moment. Pretty cocky attitude for a kid who hadn’t kissed a girl yet. But that minor detail didn’t prevent me from going by the nickname, “Studman.”
Chad Downey-
Even nerdier looking than the Studman. But widely heralded for his blazing footspeed. His daily wardrobe? Shorts, t-shirt, and running shoes. A reminder to everyone in school that he’d never lost a race. Those lightning bolt legs were always churning. Even while residing in a house full of chain smokers. Which was strangely common at the time, by the way. Chad had one other claim to fame. He looked exactly like Alfred E. Neuman (the character on the cover of Mad Magazine).
Jimmy Yang-
“Preppy” would be an understatement. He was maybe the youngest GQ subscriber in the nation. A walking, talking database of brand names. Loved reciting random facts about his gore-tex jacket. We had no clue what the hell gore-tex was, but he sure seemed to enjoy it. Jimmy’s closet was his pride and joy. Lined with perfectly ironed Polo shirts in every color. He was my first friend when I moved to town. As my mom tells it, he knocked on the door and asked if the weird kid was home. I sure was. And life grew to become so very exciting for the weird kid after that knock.
Mike Walsh-
Clearly destined to become an NBA player. Or maybe even a movie star. Those options seemed like the floor of his possibilities. He had everything I didn’t. The type of silky blonde hair that flowed perfectly in the wind. Unlike the tangled mountain of fuzz that resided atop my head. Mike strolled around with a cool skater vibe. Not a care in the world. I stumbled into rooms with a constant state of spaz. He was the most popular kid in school. And my best friend in the whole world.
Yeah, between the four of us, we had it all.
Great style, Olympic-level speed, cool hair…and a very big appetite for life.
Each day was filled with potential. Such boundless excitement. It felt like those adventures we read about in books. Now, in fairness, we were starting to get ourselves into a bit more trouble. Because, as you probably already know…
Adolescent boys are VERY into fireworks.
Don’t ask me why. I can’t really explain the reason. But it’s a total sense of awe.
(One that gets replaced later by boobs, cars, or whatever else comes next)
A few months earlier, I’d actually been visited by the local fire chief. He and my parents had a very simple question for me:
Why on earth did I burn down the woods near our house?
-Ok, well first of all, every backyard in West Virginia is called “the woods.”
-Secondly, it was a total accident. Nobody would actually want to burn down trees.
I guess some lessons just need to be learned though experience.
(Like the one about shooting bottle rockets into a pile of dry leaves)
But life kept moving…
It was now a time of celebration for our crew. This felt like a very special occasion. Mike had somehow managed to get the entire house to himself. Both parents and all three of his brothers were out for the evening.
No rules.
No limits.
It was time to seize the night.
Beyond his athletic prowess and Robert Redford-like hair…Mike Walsh also had the nicest house in the neighborhood. Complete with backyard swimming pool (and regular pool parties). The perks of having a dentist for a dad. As far as we were concerned, the Walsh estate may as well have been Disney World. It felt no less exciting.
Looking back, we should have stuck with a pool party.
Things started out tame. Lighting some run-of-the-mill fireworks. But it quickly grew into something else. Within an hour, we were pouring gasoline onto the soles of our shoes and lighting them up.
Why would anyone do that?
To make it look like we were walking on fire, of course.
(Nobody ever accused teenage boys of being geniuses)
Before long, Mike was filling up a giant Big Gulp cup from 7-Eleven. Essentially a tub of gasoline. All of us were giddy with excitement. We gathered around in a tight circle. He poured a little out and lit it mid-stream…to make fire rain from the cup.
Obviously, the fire moved into that tub of gasoline.
Mike’s hand got hot and dropped the Big Gulp.
Then came a quick decision that would lead to many sleepless nights…
He stomped on the cup.
I felt that heat within an inch of my face. The brightness blinding me for a moment. But my ears still worked. And there was no way to miss the horrifying screams. My eyes began to function again and the first thing I saw was Jimmy’s torso on fire. His Polo shirt engulfed in flames as he frantically spun around. I can still hear those screams today if I let myself remember. The second thing I saw? Chad’s unrecognizable lower body. It was just a wall of fire. Mike and I stood next to each other in a frozen state of shock. Eventually remembering our lessons from school. Shouting at both of them to roll on the ground.
We finally put out the fires. The screams morphing into cries. Jimmy no longer sounded like a kid. It was the first time I’d heard primal sounds from a human being. From somewhere deep inside. Chad’s crying was so much softer, indicating that something more serious might be happening. Like running out of the energy required to make sounds. Mike and I got them closer to the pool. Both of us floating above it all in some disoriented state of shock.
Ideally, one of us would have realized that chlorine would only make things worse.
But we didn’t have that thought.
For the first time in our young lives, we found ourselves in a living nightmare.
Absolutely no idea what to do. The look of their burnt skin…the sounds coming from them…the denial inside us that any of this was actually happening.
I was starting to lose it. And, in a panic, Mike began pleading with them not to tell their parents. A quick moment of desperate self-preservation. As if there was any way to hide what we’d done. Chad couldn’t stand up anymore. Jimmy was unable to form words between his screams. So I picked up the phone and called Chad’s father. My hands shaking. I didn’t recognize the voice coming out of my mouth as I blurted out that we were in serious trouble and needed help.
Within minutes, the car arrived. He looked at each of us, surveyed the situation, and his face filled with rage. He put Chad into the back of their Toyota…and then drove away.
To this day, I still can’t believe he left us there.
But we didn’t have time to waste. Jimmy needed to get to a doctor fast. So, I called my mom. The feeling was complete and utter terror. She drove us to the hospital and I had no idea how much anger was brewing. No clue what type of punishment awaited.
It turned out she was just so relieved that I was ok.
Physically, that is.
But our focus was on Jimmy and Chad.
I sat with Mike in the waiting room of the ER. A movie played on the television. We hardly noticed it. Both of us were somewhere else. Staring blankly ahead. Suddenly, a scene popped up that grabbed our attention. We looked at the tv together and saw an image of a house on fire. Tears began streaming down our faces. The gravity of this night impossible to avoid.
Jimmy and Chad were left with permanent scars on their bodies. A nasty bit of discoloration would now always peek out from underneath Jimmy’s Polo shirts. I never saw how much worse it was underneath. His family moved away soon after that night. And we never saw Chad in shorts again. There were no more races. He started spending much more time on his own.
Mike was grounded for a very long time. I imagine there were lawsuits or settlements. But he and I never saw each other outside of school again. Because of whatever else was happening, he ended up flunking that grade. We lost touch.
That night was the last time our crew ever hung out together.
I haven’t replayed those details in my head for years. But, as I type the words, all of these feelings are still right there inside. That’s how it is with so many of our memories, right? Could be a million years ago but could also be just yesterday.
I remember moving to that town. Watching other kids playing in the street. Wanting desperately to have that in my life.
I remember the excitement of these blooming friendships.
And I remember how quickly they went away.
Man, it’s a dramatic story. Easily the most cinematic ending to a friendship I’ve ever had. But are “normal” endings much different?
I worked with a guy in my 20’s. We had a quick dinner together every night on our break. I knew about his dreams and fears. He knew about mine. We helped each other outside of work. And, like so many other examples through the years, eventually lost touch.
I was the best man at my college friend’s wedding. At that time, we were the closest thing either of us had to a brother. And now? Just sporadic contact every few years. Surface-level conversations. That tight bond no longer there.
When we lose the specialness of a connection we once had, there’s some emptiness left behind. Memories and the little whisper of a question – of what might have been.
Usually, there isn’t some dramatic situation. Because making friends is fairly easy. But keeping that alive and healthy is something different. And it gets much harder to stay connected as we grow older. There’s more noise. Internal and external. More to occupy our attention.
I think this is a muscle we can develop…
-To feel a responsibility for deepening the bonds that matter.
-To consciously take the time to invest in those relationships.
-To keep meaningful sparks alive.
I don’t think many of us prioritize this enough in our to-do lists. I look around and see it in others. I look in the mirror and see it in myself.
We should understand this well by now. Deep connections can be made. But they can also be lost.
And it doesn’t always take a Big Gulp full of gasoline to do it.
Just some lack of time and care.
I hope all of us can get better at this. At remembering that our closest friendships aren’t bulletproof. That relationships are living things that need to be watered. Otherwise, they will decay.
I hope all of us can work that muscle.
