Reunion 2017

JUNE 1967

"Mike?....it's me...how'd you make out with it?"
"I got it...I just walked in.....you comin' over?"
"Be right there.....Don't open it until I get there"
"Hurry up.."
I bolted out of the house and started trotting across Hartmann's farm. The farmland separated our two developments by about 200 yards and it was an easy jog along the tractor trails.
Mike was leaning out of his bedroom window on the upper floor.
"Come in the back way", he said
I went through the open garage into his house and met him in his music room. He was holding the record album behind his back and had the familiar smirk on his face.

"Wait until you see the cover" he chuckled.
"I AM waiting"
He brought the record around and held it up for me to see. Neither of us spoke for a minute.
"Who are all these people?" I asked, reaching out for it.
He pulled it back away from me and sat down on the couch, still holding the record album as though it was a precious treasure. Little did we realize it was true.
"There's Bob Dylan....Marlon Brando.." I searched the cover over and over as we called out familiar names.
"W.C. Fields...Marylin Monroe....Edgar Allen Poe...."
A lot of familiar faces...and a few we didn't recognize right away.
Mike stood up and walked across to his record player. He split the cellophane wrap with his thumbnail and flexed the cardboard to grab the record.
"Wait," I said.."let's play it on the Eagle's set upstairs."
The Eagle was the affectionate name the family had for Mike's Dad..and because I was a ubiquitous fixture at their home, I was allowed to refer to him by the nickname.
We hurried upstairs and Mike took the record out of the sleeve, his palms pressing the edges.
He placed it on the spinning turntable and carefully lowered the arm...
A slight hiss...a pop..another hiss and..
"IT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO TODAY..."

OCTOBER 2017
I pulled into the parking lot of the Plainview HOLIDAY INN, hoping I would find a "good" parking spot for my new truck. A "good" spot was one that was unlikely to subject my truck to door dings or dents, or worse, a stroller scar from a distracted mom.
That's a REAL First-World problem you got there, Old Man. 
I was there for the 50th Reunion of my High School class, and had traveled 800 or so miles from South Carolina to participate. I had kept in touch with several classmates over the years, and even got together with a few in recent years. I was eager to see most of my classmates, many of whom  I knew since Second Grade.

SEPTEMBER 1965
Mr. Joseph Solano was a humorless individual who happened to be my Spanish Teacher. The Language Lab, as it was called, had a desk for each student with Audio and Tape facilities, and more importantly....microphones. I sat there with my headphones on, fighting the weight of my eyelids. I was suddenly shocked to hear the serious monotone of an Air-Traffic Controller:
"YES..KENNEDY TOWER..FLIGHT 831...YOU ARE CLEARED TO LAND...RUNWAY TWO-NINER..."
I glanced around to see if anyone else had heard the same thing, and noticed another student giggling with his deskmate.
The teacher made a show of removing his glasses and walking over to the offender's desk.
"SENOR MASONE...DO YOU THINK THAT AT ANY TIME THIS SEMESTER YOU WILL TAKE THIS CLASS SERIOUSLY?..THE MICROPHONES ARE NOT TO BE USED FOR YOUR PERSONAL ANTICS"..
 With that, he turned on his heel and walked back to his desk, unaware that the student had indicated his displeasure by placing his thumb to his nose and wiggling his fingers. I didn't know him at all, but something about him was right up my alley.

OCTOBER 2017
 The Reunion was about what you might expect from a VERY large graduating class, a big turnout, and many surprised encounters with old friends and acquaintances. In one corner of the room, someone had created a somber display with the names of our classmates who had passed in the years since we had said our goodbyes in the parking lot at the Westbury Music Fair, the site of our 
graduation Ceremony. I was aware, of course, that quite a few classmates had died. Just the same, I avoided the table which held the display.
 I said my hellos and sought out those I had become friendly with on Facebook. Social media is wonderful for easing the shock of seeing those folks who have aged beyond our teenage memories of them.
 Several of my Classmates asked the question I was dreading in the past week or so:
"Hey..is Mike coming?"
I looked around for something to focus on. I blew out a deep sigh, and answered.
"No. Mike was moved to a Hospice Facility yesterday." I felt my face get hot.
I had to answer the same question about a half dozen times that evening, each time I thought more and more about getting into my truck and leaving.
  At some point, it was time for the group photo, and as we took our places, I was reminded of the Album cover from 50 years ago. Some familiar faces, some not.

DECEMBER 2000
 I met Mike at a Diner in Bethpage, not far from where he had his Violin Shop. He had started his business in my Father's basement workshop, the horsehair for the Bows hanging down like so much Spanish Moss.
 We spoke, of course, about old times and new, his family, my family,...the world. I have always been guilty of being sarcastic, and caustic, and intolerant of others in general.... Mike, on the other hand, tended to be constantly amused at the human condition, and had mellowed considerably since we last met.
"Tom,..he said..I have found it so much easier to be nice."
It was a good reunion. I saw him a lot less over the years, but kept in touch regularly. Even at the end
of his fight, when he had all but lost the power of speech.
BE NICE.

OCTOBER 2017
I left the Holiday Inn the morning after the High School Reunion. I was heading home to South Carolina. I had no way of knowing I would be driving back to Huntington in a couple of days.

Mike Masone died on Halloween.
He wasn't perfect. But he was a perfect friend.

NOVEMBER 2017
  Maybe someday one of my Grandchildren will ask me:
"Grandpa..what should I be when I grow up?"
 BE NICE.
Be like Mike.