Greg was a very unique guy and someone I’m glad I was able to call my friend. I met him in junior high, where many of our first genuine friendships begin. His family only lived a few subdivisions over from mine and most days we would be at one of our two houses after school messing around outside trying to stay out of trouble. While we were both fairly decent athletes growing up, Greg was a few inches taller than me and at 6’3″, he could play some basketball…for a white guy.
The most vivid sports memory I have involving Greg was during a high school basketball game on the road. With many friends in the stands, we cheered on our Groves team which lost more games than they won. Greg was the starting center and one of our best players on a lousy team. Our opponents were from the inner city with much more talent and while the game was nearing halftime I witnessed one of the scariest incidents in my life.
One of the opponents, for some reason after a made free throw, walked right next to my friend and punched him in the face. To this day we never figured out why he did this, but blood and commotion on the court quickly ensued. It was a sad moment, to see one of your best friends get blindsided for no reason and go down like a sack of potatoes. His parents, just a couple seats down from me saw the entire thing and within an instant Greg’s father was racing to the floor to check on his son. It took many months before Greg’s vision returned to normal.
WE USE TO GET INTO FIGHTS
Let me clarify. My crew would cruise around town like high school punks with nothing to do and nowhere to go. It was at a Big Boy restaurant one night that Greg pulled us out of potential danger. There were a group of guys from a rival school already hanging out at this establishment but with Greg on our side we all felt pretty fearless. Pointless bravado filled the air and within minutes bodies were being tossed from one side of the restaurant to the other. Hanging out with my undersized Jewish friends didn’t evoke much encouragement. The would-be lawyer and would-be accountant weren’t going to be mistaken for Mohamed Ali or Mike Tyson. I was a late bloomer as well so my buck forty wasn’t gonna be throwin’ too many people around. Luckily we had Greg on our side so we walked away pretty much unscathed.
WE USE TO BUILD THINGS
As youngsters after school, we sometimes had to take a break from the norm of playing catch, skating on the pond, or throwing the football. In between playing sports and before the ‘girl’ phase kicked in to hi gear, we found that we had a little extra time on our hands and being creative, our focus shifted to building stuff. We thought we could build just about anything. We tried building a go-cart once but got only as far as saying, “We should build a go-cart”. Our time machine experiment ended with similar results. Looking back, I don’t think we successfully built one damn thing, but boy was it fun to dream about building something cool.
WE USE TO TALK ABOUT GIRLS
Oh how we talked about girls. What adolescent heterosexual guy didn’t? Although we had slightly different taste in females, it didn’t stop us from discussing who we’d like to hook up with (shag for you Europeans) and where we’d like to do it. He always chose the taller ones; I tended to lean towards the gymnast type. Since Greg matured a little quicker than most guys our age, his success with the ladies began a little sooner than mine. That pissed me off growing up, but in the end I did alright for myself. Greg was in a serious relationship, one that was surely going to lead him down the alter, if only he’d gotten the chance.
Growing up, neither of us were very good students. It wasn’t that we weren’t smart, we just didn’t apply ourselves. Actually that’s not true. We just didn’t apply ourselves properly. We spent plenty of time being active, playing sports, and eventually ‘college’ drinking became a full time hobby. Greg and I went to the same junior high, high school and then the same small college that only lesser grade point students went to. I guess in today’s day and age we’d be considered grade point ‘challenged’.
By the second year of college, we were living in an apartment with two other guys, one of which also attended the same high school as us. While going to class on a regular basis seemed optional, we found other things to do. I played soccer for the school’s team and Greg played basketball. My grades started improving while Greg’s did not. His entire life, he had underperformed scholastically. It was right before my 21st birthday that he told me he was going to start trying a lot harder in school.
Nov 28th, 1990
I was excited to finally see some of my best friends who had been attending university three hours away. I was turning twenty one and like most twenty first birthday fiasco’s, it was planned to be a drunken good time. The plan was to drink all day, then come night time, drink a little more. Greg was going to have to catch up with us later because he decided to help one of his professors set up for a fund raiser event. Typically this would be one of the last things Greg would volunteer to do, especially on THIS weekend with friends in town that neither of us had seen for awhile but looking to turn over a new leaf, that’s the decision he made.
Having a great time with long lost friends in town I lost track of time until I realized it was a little strange that Greg wasn’t at the apartment by ten thirty, since he had left several hours ago. With no cell phone to reach him on, and plenty of friends in town to get me sloshed, I barley noticed his absence. When 3am rolled around, I just sensed trouble. Deep down I knew something was wrong, but suppressed that feeling with more alcohol. A couple of hours later the phone rang.
Officer X broke the horrible news
Greg got hit by a drunk driver on his way home. Most people had him pegged as the guy most likely to become a drunk driver, but Greg was starting to turn his life around as evidence by his decision to volunteer his time. On a day that he was giving, something was clearly taken away.
We use to have so much fun practicing sports together, pretending that we both would become professional athletes one day. We use to have a riot on the ice rink during the cold Michigan winters even though neither of us were great skaters. We use to make fun of fat girls during recess, because that’s what junior high boys did. We use to throw snow balls at cars passing by a friend’s house, then run like hell when a few would try to chase us down. We use to do a lot of really fun things growing up.
It’s sad we don’t get to do those things anymore…
We use to
In memory of my friend Greg (1969-1990)
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Dave – very touching post. You and Greg were lucky to have that rare kind of friendship that lasts a lifetime and beyond. I’m sorry that Greg is gone, but it’s nice to see that his spirit lives on in his friend.
Trisha – Thank you for your comments. Sometimes it’s nice to think about your past and fond memories. There were many, sad that it ended so soon.