There are always those people who you think you will have in your life forever and then at some point you realize that you haven't talked to them in years. Why does it work out like that?
When I was five years old I lived on a street called Nagle. It was the best block in the neighborhood. All us kids were friends with each other because all of our parent's were friends. We had all gone to the grade school that was 4 blocks away and would all walk there together. I lived on that block for about 9 years[from the ages of 3 to 12]. Those were in fact, the best years of my life.
In that house lived my family, Mom: Sandra, Dad: John, Brothers: John, Vinny, James, and Sister: Josephine. Throughout my life we always had someone living in our basement. Some of my earliest memories are playing cards with this little old lady who use to live there. She taught me how to make a house of cards and how to play Rummy. There were times when family friends lived down there. Heck, even my grandparents lived there at one point.
My house was the "child magnet" house, as my parents liked to put it. We always had kids in and out of our yard, in the house, in out pool, and just everywhere. My father had worked at a karaoke bar where many of the parents would go hang out on Saturday nights. We actually had our own karaoke system in our house and it was the main event at parties we had. We also let people use it whenever we would have a block party. Which was almost every summer.
I had three best friends living on that block. Anthony [Tony], Bianca, and Rebecca.
Tony was the smallest of all of us. He was always the same size as my younger brother Johnny (who is 3 years younger than me) and they got along very well. Did I mention that Tony is a year older than me? ha ha.
He played every sport you could think of and was the life of the party wherever he went. Actually, back in the day I had one of those "crushes" on him. Which was ironic because our mothers, who were best friends, had decided that we were to be married on day. Weren't those the good times?
Bianca was the "doll", more or less, of the group. Her family was well known on the block. Her mother Pam was very tall and beautiful and her daughters took after her. She was also a beautician. I will never forget the one day I went to meet up with Bianca to walk to school and she was wearing a pink cowgirl outfit with the largest perm I had ever seen in my life. Bianca and I had a very interesting friendship. Every summer, something would happen to spark up a fight, which always resulted in some sort of physical violence. Afterward we had maybe ten minutes of thinking time before we were back knocking on each other's doors to come play. We were the dynamic duo of the block. We were always walking around the block, going to 7-eleven, or trying to catch the stray cats/dogs that were roaming in the alley ways. Like I said, we had an interesting friendship. Interesting but great.
Rebecca was the ultimate friend. Now, we never did too much running around but we always had something to do. You see, I had this huge porch on the front of my house that was perfect for playing on. It always made the best set for horse figurines. That's right, horse figurines. Rebecca and I didn't play Barbies together, or makeovers, we played with our animals. There was never an idea that wasn't looked into when it came to the imagination we used. It was amazing. Now, I remember that I was slightly looked down upon for playing with these toys. At times, other friends of mine would approach us on my porch asking me if I wanted to play. Well of course I rejected (politely of course) because I was just having too much fun using my imagination. Imagine that!
Regardless of how I was looked at I was always me with my friends. I guess that "me" didn't suit all of them when it came to staying in touch when I moved half way across the country.
In June of 2004, my family packed up and moved to Las Vegas. I was 12 1/2 years old and I thought it was a grand idea. I mean, what could be better than lights all around and having a big house? Well, I was 12 then. I'm 18 now and realizing that it's not the attractions that makes the place, it's the people. That can be taken in many ways. I have met some rather amazing people living here but the amount of not-so-great people is by far, a larger percentage. It's been 6 years now that I've lived in Vegas and it is only now that I am starting to see it as home. I still have my heart stuck in Chicago, but my body recognizes Vegas as where I "have" to be. For the time being anyway.
I just want to know what happened to a lot of the friend I had when I lived back in Chicago. All those good times that we had. I guess they just turn into distant memories. I hate the feeling of having past memories with a person but not being able to make new ones. In other words, losing a friend is THE worst thing in the world.
I skipped out on a lot of things in my childhood. Emotions were a big part of that. I had been through a lot of things when I was younger and I always saw myself as "the strong one". It was a standard that I held myself up to. This way if someone needed to break down I could be there to help them. I allowed myself to often become the target of people's anger, sadness, happiness or anything other mental release that needed to be taken care of. With this, I had formulated myself to believe that crying is a sign of weakness. Not in others, but in myself. Not a good thing. I had experienced many deaths as a child. When I was 5, my baby brother, James [Jimmy], died of heart failure at 3 months of age. I remember that day more than I do any other day in my life. I sat and watched as my mother hectically attempted to revive him, I watched as firemen took him to the ambulance, and I remember watching his body be lowered into the ground. Ultimately, the most devastating days of my life. When I was 10, My best friend from school, Sima [also 10], died in one of Iran's most deadly earthquakes. It was bad enough that it happened in the first placed but it happened the day after Christmas. When I was 15, a friend from grade school, Damian, died ice fishing with his grandfather. and the most recent death I've had to face was my friend Dean, who died cliff diving. His death, was the one that hit me the hardest mentally. At summer's end, after graduating and finally finishing those 12 years of school, he was robbed of, well, everything. When I found out, all I could think was "that could have been me". But no, I am the "lucky" one who gets to pursue a career that I earned after going to college. I could have a family and a home. A beautiful wedding and a beautiful house. Dean doesn't get that. Neither does Jimmy or Sima or Damian.
When I go through situations like, guys problems, work issues, or "school is too hard", I have to keep in mind how lucky I am that I even have the opportunity to have any of those things. Unlike my friends who were robbed of so much. When I hear that people are "just getting by" I think, "No. You have all you need. Food, water, a shelter, any of the above. You aren't hanging on for dear life. You ARE in fact alive." Don't just sit there and mope in your self pity because in the blink of an eye, you can have heart failure, or accidentally fall in a lake, or get caught in an earthquake, or break your neck. Live life for all it is. Explore the wonders. Laugh every minute. Take advantage of the life God has given you and rejoice in it.
Until next time, I'm out.
