Mark Leemon

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUSE

For a guy who has been known on occasion to be just a little bit wordy, I have to say that wishing the two of you Happy Birthday with “a few personal memories” is an undertaking that pretty much leaves me speechless. I am plagued even at this advanced age with an excellent memory, and my memories of both of you are so plentiful, rich and vivid that putting them in words would take another 60 years for a typist much faster than I. My difficulty is compounded by the impossibility of putting into words the depth and texture of my feelings of love for you.

But, I don’t want to disappoint your excellent kids, and after all, I promised, so here goes. If some of these thoughts seem sketchy or vague to others, I’m confident that you will get the gist.

Happy Birthday, Carol random thoughts and memories:

How absolutely certain Bobby was that you were the one within nanoseconds of his meeting you in Markley, and how odd this seemed to me as an 18 year-old dufus.

Your morning look with your hair up in big rollers and the ever fashionable flannel nightgown and floppy slippers.

Our place on Forest Court and the apartment you shared with Barbara Waldman.

The time I brought my neighbor Betty from the cockroach manor in Allston over to your place in Brighton and she proceeded to eat everything that was not nailed down.

The Night of the Living Dead.

How funny it was, for whatever reason, the first time you did “the language lab”.

The conversation in Bedford where we worked out our “triangle” jealousies.

You traveling through the dark of morning and the dark of evening to and from Chelmsford High in grownup dress clothes while we went to school and messed around. I’m sure none of us were sensitive enough to how alienating it must have been.

The auction barn in Hendersonville, where the four of us had more teeth than everyone else combined. I have never forgiven myself for passing on the pig cigarette case that shot cigarettes out of its butt.

Teaching ESL to the hill folk.

Your description of the potluck featuring lime Jell-o with mayo.

Discovering our shared love of kitchen organization and the perfect container, when I kept house for you.

Your (practically) unfailing grace during Bernice’s inspection tours.

Your bizarre maladies and injuries and the good humor (at least in retrospect) with which you bore them.

Your unfailing friendliness to my various girlfriends and wives, the good and the questionable.

The ICU in Saratoga.

Your triumphal appearance at Robin’s wedding.

How your house has always been my house, even when you might not have always been in the mood.

Happy Birthday to you.

Happy Birthday to Bobby random thoughts and memories:

Once again you are testing the birthday waters for me six weeks ahead, as you have for more than 50 years. From our “club” on Boo Krolik’s garage roof to weeks ago in Utah you are, were and will be my best friend.

Perhaps it was that trip to Utah, maybe it’s just the whole getting old thing, but many of the memories that jump to my mind are the oldest:

Tetherball

Horse

Climbing back and forth over the Wordens’ fence so often, we kept destroying it.

Pretend baseball in the street.

My mom’s mandel bread

Dinner with the Deutsches at Joe Muer

Bernice locking the freezer

Finding out about Wimpy’s “bad ear” the hard way

Findng out about Wimpy’s bad digestive system the hard way.

Sleepovers

Hot afternoons watching baseball and playing cards in your blessed air conditioning.

Mr. Plofkin

Mr. Ben-Dor

The Sultans. Just one of the places you made room for me that might not otherwise have been there.

Your willingness and ability to talk to (shudder) girls. Thank God you needed no wingman.

Playing Sammy football. We lined up right next to each other.

Drunk and crying with Al at your wedding.

The joy of watching your kids catch on to and get a kick out of all of your obsessive shticks.

I of course remember when you were as round as you were high, while I sprung up early. Nonetheless, you were always more coordinated, quicker (though not faster), and certainly more game. It never would have crossed my mind to wrestle in High School.

These memories and thousands of others as kids and adults of course leave out the emotional stuff, which for the most part we have always left unsaid. It makes me happy and comfortable to be with you. I know what and how you think and you know what and how I think. You have always been accepting and welcoming of my mishegass as I hope I have been with yours. Although I may not always feel less crazy around you, it has always been plain that my craziness was OK, or at least didn’t matter. There may be a hundred people I spend time with or even talk to more frequently than you, but I would never think of anyone else as my best friend. I’ve got your back, and I’m sure you’ve got mine.

So Happy Birthday, old man. I look forward to the time (which I have always assumed is coming) when we can spend more time and birthdays together. As the kids say, you’re my BFF.