It seems when I was younger, I didn’t have nearly as
many conflicting thoughts as I do now. I
remember a time in my life, well into my thirties, where things seemed nearly
perfect. I had a nice house and a steady,
decent paying job. That’s not to say it
was worry-free, because it wasn’t. It
just seemed that the path to the future was pretty clear, albeit frighteningly
boring. Things are different these days,
but if nothing else, I know I saved myself from working in a factory for 40
years, and I’m good with that. But I
didn’t write this to talk about my problems.
I wrote it to make the point that it’s funny how things work out.
I won’t go through the entire timeline, but I
started out worrying about money and ended up waxing nostalgic all the way back
to grade school. I can’t say it was the
best time of my life, but it sure was fun.
We lived in a small town and I went to school with the same kids from
kindergarten through the seventh grade.
I had friends, good friends that I’d known for years. We had a lot of laughs. Out of the blue, I absurdly remembered a pep
rally from the seventh grade where every kid in the school was laughing at the
same time.
I remembered a girl who had to speak at the pep
rally, but she wasn’t just any girl. She
was that one girl in the school who was developed far beyond her years. Unlike most of the girls there, she had far
outgrown her trainer bra. She had boobs
that jiggled and swayed when she walked.
When she walked, her ass was poetry in motion. She was every 12 year old’s dream. Anyway, she had to read something from behind
a lectern to the entire student body, and as she started, she shifted her
weight from one foot to another. Then
she did it again. And again and again,
almost every 10 seconds or so. I don’t
think she knew why everyone was laughing because she kept doing it. She almost looked like she was dancing. I laughed too, but only because I was deeply
in lust with her. I’m not sure I knew
what lust was then, but she did make me feel real funny whenever she got close…like
in the same room.
I didn’t mention the girl’s name, but if you went to
Parkside Jr. High in Normal, you know who I’m talking about. I got to thinking of people’s names, of the
kids I went to school with, and was surprised I could remember so many of
them. We all do that, don’t we? Think about people we knew as kids, and wonder
what happened to them? I suppose I could
probably find them on Facebook, but that was so long ago. Would they remember me, and what would I say
after hello? Anyway, one name in
particular came to mind, and for just a few minutes, nothing else mattered
except the memory of Mindy Sue Lenning.
She was my first girlfriend. She was my first hand-hold, my first kiss. She was also my twin sister’s best friend, so
she was always near, even if in gossip.
Everybody in grade school knew it was me and Mindy. She was short. She had moved from Birmingham Alabama; I can
still hear exactly the way she enunciated “Birmingham”. Her father’s name (which I knew from looking
them up in the phone book) was Gerhard, which, at the time, was just hilarious. She had an exotic look, like a pacific
islander, and imperfect teeth that were perfect. She was happy and fun and laughed at
everything I said. It didn’t matter what
we were doing, because whatever it was, we would have a good time doing
it. We moved away from Illinois after I
finished the 7th grade to a Detroit suburb. Things there were far different there, but
that’s another story.
The point is (and I hate that I sound like an old
person when I say it) that those were good and much simpler times. When I get down on the way things are now, it’s
good to remember that things were good before and with any luck, they’ll get
good again sometime. Of course, they’ll
never be as good as childhood; that time has come and gone and it can never be
recaptured. I don’t think of those times
often, but when I do, it’s always good. I
did some digging on Mindy, though, and found that while it is good to remember
the past, it’s also good to leave it right there.
After some digging, my sister and I finally found
Mindy. Well, her obituary anyway. She died September 8, 2008 at 12:35am in her
home. It didn’t say what kind, but it
was cancer that killed her. I had to
stop and sit down for a minute. All of
our childhood plans came back: Her family
lived in an apartment, and I can remember going there and knocking on the door
and sweating bullets asking her mom or dad if she were home and could she come
out? We’d walk down to Normal Park and
there was never enough time to make our plans before she had to go back in. When her dad whistled, she had to go NOW. We had time to plan our marriage; there was
no question about that happening. We
didn’t have a profession planned, we didn’t think of college, because none of
that mattered yet. The only important thing
was that we were going to be together forever, holding hands (kissing
sometimes), and playing and daydreaming in the park.
Mindy was married and divorced (to a guy named Jeff,
oddly enough). She had two kids and died
at the age of 46. From what little I’ve
been able to find, she had a normal life, and I’m happy for her to have had
it. I felt badly, though, because she
had been dead for four years before I knew it.
I wish I had a different picture of her; the one posted is the only one
I could find. Her smile was magical.
I’m sure things would have been different had I not
moved. The Detroit area, and shortly
thereafter, Flint, MI, was much, much different than the small farming town I
spent the first 13 years of my life.
There’s no changing the way things are, but every now and then, because
I’m old, I remember the old days and old friends…and it’s good. In my digging I found a lot of names that I
recognized. I remember some names that I
couldn’t find at all. I’m torn between
seeing how they are now and remembering them as they were. Such is my fate as an old person.
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