I’m finally old enough to understand the real message in ‘Stand By Me,’ and it makes me sentimental, but not in a way where I want to go back to being a young boy… I just want to reminisce for a minute.
I want to call my friend Mike Kaufman and go hang out at his house, and maybe, if we’re lucky, catch a glimpse of his neighbor, Kim, in her backyard. But whether Kim is sunning herself or not, I just wanna go hang out with Mike.
We always had fun, and we always seemed to get into some kind of mischief and mayhem. (I think harmless mayhem really is in a young boy’s nature…)
It’s strange… as an old man, I can’t hardly remember what me and Mike used to do together… but even without doing anything, I think we still had fun. He was still one of the best friends I ever had.
We went to school together since about, 5th grade I think? And we also went to church together, and when Mormon kids made friends with other Mormon kids, I don’t know but I feel like those friendships run deep somehow.
I remember he was blind in one eye. He told me that one day during recess, and I thought about it for a minute, and then promptly forgot it.
We had the same twisted sense of humor. One time in art class, he drew a picture and labeled it, “Happy Impaled People.” It was exactly what you’re imagining it was — and I thought it was absolutely brilliant.
We never really talked about pain, or sadness, or anything dark like that, but when I look back I can see we’d both been hurt by life, even at our young age. Maybe there was some solace in being accepted by someone else who I knew was “messed up.” Like if they like me, I guess I’m alright?
We became friends at a critical point in a young boy’s life, just before puberty starts to kick in. When we started hanging out, we were still interested in Nintendo, board games, sleepovers, dirty jokes, and “little kid” type shenanigans. We knew we were no longer little kids, ourselves… but we were just barely at that age where we could still find humor in little kid things.
We were still fairly young and naive — though, as I already noted, we both already carried scars.
We liked the same music, same movies, same t.v. shows, games, and, as much as possible in prepubescence, we even liked the same girls. Sometimes, we liked the same girl at the same time. And sometimes, that led to conflict between us, but we always worked it out.
Mike was one of the few friends I never thought I was better than. I always saw him as equal — until I came home from the Navy, and saw myself as vastly inferior to everyone around me. But that’s its own story.
Mike Kaufman was a fun kid. He didn’t have to do or be anything — he was just fun to be around.
Of course, one of my favorite memories is the time we hopped his back fence to talk to Kim and her friends, who were laying out in their bikinis. (What can I say? I’ve always liked girls…) That might’ve been the first time I ever talked to a girl in a bikini, matter of fact.
But the times that stick out to me the most are the times we’d sneak out of Sunday school and go buy Jolt cola at 7-11…
The time a bunch of us stole about 15 gallons of milk in the middle of the night from all my neighbors who had their milk delivered from local farms…
Or the time we used a BB gun to shoot out a light in the park behind my house… (Carrie was there when we shot the light out. That was one of those moments where maybe I should’ve noticed me and Carrie might not have been as compatible as I wanted to believe we were…)
Or the time a bunch of us boys almost got beat up for walking past a comic book store, and making fun of all the older teenagers who were inside, playing Dungeons and Dragons…
I remember going to my first Renaissance Faire with him and his parents, and his brother, Ryan. I believe that was around the time Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves was in the theaters, and every boy I knew wanted to be a medieval hero.
I remember admiring all the people who were in costume, and thinking how awesome it would be to have a job working at the Faire, traveling the country, wearing the clothes, talking the lingo. I absolutely loved the jousting.
(And the wenches. What? I’m just sayin…)
Me and Mike talked about that Faire for days afterwards, the way that only young boys can.
It’s hard to remember some things, for sure, but I think we both started smoking around the same time. Actually, I remember being at church one Tuesday night, and me, Mike, Ryan, and Craig Lawson, sneaking out to smoke some Camel cigarettes I’d got from my friend Brad… and then when we came back in, the bishop busted us and asked where the cigarettes came from and I got scared and spilled the beans.
Was that the first time Mike ever smoked? Am I responsible for getting him, Ryan, and Craig, started on cigarettes? I may never know now…
But around that same time, we both started drinking on occasion, and smoking marijuana. I’m not really sure what else Mike, or Ryan, or Craig, might have gotten into, because that was so close to the time Carrie and I started dating, and Carrie occupies a lot of my long-term memory…
And by the time me and Carrie broke up, me and Mike had already drifted apart. We may have drifted apart even before then… I vaguely remember chasing after a couple of his ex-girlfriends, before I met Carrie. And that might have caused issues. I honestly can’t recall.
But I know that, for several years in grade school, middle school, and the first few years of high school, we were good friends.
For the duration of our friendship, Mike was my best friend.
The last time I saw him, I was home on leave. I wanna say I’d randomly run into his brother Ryan at a pool hall, with some of my other high school friends, and that led to a bunch of us going to see Mike and his girlfriend.
We hadn’t talked for years before that, and in some ways it was like we were still the same kids we’d always been… but in other ways — the ways that mattered in adulthood — we barely knew each other at all.
We made jokes, like we’d used to do… and then the jokes ran out and I just felt awkward, and out of place. It was nice to see him, and nice to catch up… but whatever brotherhood we’d had, growing up, it just wasn’t there anymore.
I don’t know if it’s gone for good, or if that was because I already had PTSD and just didn’t know it yet… or if too much time had passed between us but if we’d kept in touch, maybe we could’ve rekindled that solid friendship?
I don’t know. I’ll never know. And every once in a while, that kills me inside, just a little bit.
I wonder, from time to time, what he’s up to. I wonder what things would be like, if we were still friends. I wonder if it would make it easier for, today, if I still had some of those old friends to lean on…
Or if childhood friends belong to the ashes of childhood, and moving on and growing apart is what was supposed to happen… what had to happen, as we both grew into adults.
I wonder if 49-year-old me could be friends with 49-year-old Mike?
I doubt I’ll ever know — but every now and then, I sure would like to find out.