As we are all aging, we come face to face with an occasional death in the family. Im not talking about Family with a capital F I am reflecting on the larger family, that diverse group made up our friends and colleagues when we were young. Because of our high school reunion (business conflicts kept me from attending) and Facebook, many memories are alive again in my heart. Seeing a matured face of an old friend and classmate reminds me of tender times when we all looked upon our emerging world as our oyster. It was a world of possibilities and at the same time uncertainties. I had no idea what I was to do with my life. Unlike many of you, maturity came late to me. I did not begin to find my way until almost my 30th birthday. I am the definition of a late bloomer. As a result, some of my personal recollections of my interactions and repose from those days fills me with embarrassment. I spent a lot of time hiding from myself... trying to be who I thought I was instead of just being myself. My years in high school were not hard for me because I lacked the self-awareness to be anything other than the caricature that I tried so hard to be. I appreciate those of you who looked past my bravado and saw glimpses of substance under all of my pretense. Why am I writing this note to whom it may concern now? Because many of you have stirred memories in my mind. People long gone like Carl Moldovan, Mrs Nemchec (even now I would find it disrespectful to call her by her first name) and our diminutive theater teacher Mrs Bryant. How sad it is to learn that the journey, this time around the wheel, has already closed on Dan Lanzoni, Bev Jones, and (Izzo, Pratico, Cortina and others). Funny that. I hope there are new things to learn and see in my remaining life. How sobering to think of the empty chair where a classmate once sat? Today, I read a post by Douglas Burnett in comment to some terrific photos John Shelmet and Billie Jo Yadrick Shelmet had posted from their beautiful daughters wedding (I dont do John and Billie Jo justice by commenting on only the prettiness of their daughter. Knowing the both of them, I am sure she is also smart, loyal and kind). In Dougs post he mentioned a event during football camp. In the post, he also mentioned Albert Johnson. And that is why I am writing this. Albert has been dead for over 30 years now. But I remember him well. I would like you all to remember him too. Albert was an odd duck. He was, in high school, a man. Bigger, faster, stronger, more fearless, and more confident than the rest of us. I was always pleased when Albert missed football practice because you often got hurt playing against him. I remember in junior high school Albert failed a science class because he brought into class a box of wires, tubes and parts that he scavenged at the dump. He claimed he had built a TV set from the assembled junk and that it worked at home. The teacher was sure the TV never worked and gave Albert an F. Meanwhile, I had built a magnet with a wire, nail and dry cell battery. I got my deserved customary C. I cant even remember the teachers name now, but I wanted to strangle him. You see, Albert had imagination and he had large thoughts. Much grander than those of us who simply regurgitated back what the teachers said. Albert was pure energy and promise. I felt smaller when I was around him. Every so often, after Albert left the University (I seem to remember Rutgers but I could be wrong), he would call me. Even as his behavior became more troubled, he might call and ask me if I could pick him up and drop him off at home. Usually I did as he asked. A couple of my friends were in the police department in those days and I knew of his legendary tirades through them. I thought I was doing my civic duty to protect the cops by giving Albert a lift. I also worried about Alberts safety. He was scary for the cops. The day before Albert put a fatal bullet in his head, my parents told me that he had called that evening. They knew his voice well enough to know it was him even though he never left me a message. I am reminded of some dialog from Lawrence of Arabia where Allenby, the Commanding General over T.E Lawrence is asked by a reporter for some words at Lawrences Funeral. Allenby remarked no, no more words. I did not really know him. I did not REALY know Albert Johnson either. I knew that Albert had destiny. I thought him as a future NFL star. I did not know his destiny was so desolate that he ended his own life at such a young age. He cheated all of us out of his possibility. He was, among other things, smart and loyal. I miss that his picture will not be on Facebook showing his aging face, humor and life story. The last time I picked him up, he got in the car and I took him home. Albert never said a word. His mental troubles were already evident. He had few friends and not much that he was willing to share. As I think about him now he is forever young. He was always a bit solitary butI am sorry for his loneliness. Im sure it would please him to know he is not forgotten. Do any of you have pictures or memories of Albert? If you do can you share them?
Posted on: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 03:13:42 +0000
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