It doesn’t get much better than that.
During the winter months, I kept a half gallon of whole milk on the front window sill.
I slept in thermal underwear because it was so fucking cold in the room.
What was I expecting for 25 bucks a week?
We did landscape construction, and in the winter, we plowed and split firewood.
It was 1976, and a cord of dried oak was $165 delivered and stacked.
I met Jeff during my senior year in high school.
Jeff was five foot seven and thick through the middle.
He had medium-length light brown hair combed to one side and wore gold, thin-framed glasses.
I knew he couldn’t see a whole heck of a lot without them.
“and then we’d have a full-scale rumble in the car.
He couldn’t see, so he threw blind punches in the air, hoping to connect.
He told me to get the clam plate and that he was buying.
I liked it so much that we ate at the lakeside restaurant three, sometimes four times a month.
He smoked Winstons, and I smoked Marlboros.
After the meal, we stayed for another beer, a smoke, and the view.
At the time, the drinking age in Massachusetts was 18.
We were both big fans of Van Morrison, and our favorite song of his wasMoondance.
He was setting up a flight home for his son.
Jeff had suffered a complete and total nervous breakdown.
I constantly assured him he was pretty fuckin' normal in my eyes.
I never saw this coming.
His voice was monotone and almost unrecognizable.
It had to be the antidepressants they were pumping him full of.
He said he was coming to my place in East Walpole on Thursday night at 8:30.
I told him we could get stoned and eat boxes of frosted brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tarts.
He laughed and said he was looking forward to it.
8:30 turned to 9:00 and then 9:30 to 10:00.
I opened my door and yelled down the dark stairwell,“Hey, Wahoo, that you?”
He was laughing so hard he could barely respond.
He couldn’t see, and he was tripping on the stairs.
He took a joint out of his pack of Winstons, and we got stoned.
His father said okay.
Jeff called very excited and told me about the job.
He said that I could ride in with him and his father.
I told Jeff I wasn’t a morning person, but he insisted I’d get used to it.
He got quiet, and then we said goodbye.
He hung up first.
He was just 20 years old…
I’ve regretted not taking that job my entire life.
Maybe I could’ve helped him, maybe not, but I’ll never know…
Whenever I hear this, I think of Jeff and all the great times we had…
