Echoes of the Past

by David A. Cronin

Many people hate to stand in line. I happen to enjoy it (well, most of the time, anyway). In today's fast-paced culture we tend to find such moments of inactivity a hindrance rather than an opportunity for reflection or contemplation.

Back when I was in the eighth grade, I met a guy in chorus named Rodney. Since both of us still had our high-pitched adolescent voices--much to the chagrin of our young male egos--we were placed in the girls' section. I was assigned to the altos while Rodney went with the sopranos. Our teacher, though, had the wisdom to help soften this embarrassment. By making me the last in my section and Rodney the first in his, she saw to it that we would sit next to each other. Thus we were able to give each other moral support and we quickly became close friends.

One evening, near the end of the school year, we were to perform in our fancy choir robes for the faculty and parents. Outside the building near the stage door, waiting for our cue, we were all lined up in position according to our sections. It just so happens that the basketball courts were positioned next to the stage. Rodney, being a guy, unlike myself, who was very impetuous and prone to do wild, spontaneous things turned to me and said, "Come on Crowbar, I'll race you around the courts!!"

I was dumbfounded and said, "Are you crazy? We go on in a few minutes!"

Without another word he flashed his mischievous grin, lightly smacked me on the side of the head with the palm of his hand, and took off running.

For about a nano-second, I just stood there, confused, not sure what to do. Then I took off after my friend. I will never forget watching him run in front of me, his head bobbing up and down, his robe billowing behind him. I felt a mixture of terror, exhilaration, and joy doing something so spontaneous, so out of character and with a dash of danger thrown in to boot. We were sure to get in trouble if we were caught or missed our cue to go on stage.

I remember rounding the last turn, watching in horror as the chorus started filing in. We both ran for all we were worth and got to the door just at the moment we were supposed to be walking in. Throughout the whole show we kept glancing at each other, trying to hold back our laughter. It felt like I held an honored and hard-earned position in a secret club which, in fact, I did.

The next year Rodney and I went to different schools and we lost touch with each other. During that year I was told by one of my teachers that had known of our friendship that Rodney had climbed up a telephone pole and was electrocuted.

There was much conversation among my peers about what a foolish, misguided thing that was for him to do. I knew that it was not a wise thing he did, but it was still a tragedy that we had lost him. What helped me to assuage my grief was that I felt I knew something deeper about him. I knew intimately what he was feeling when he was at the bottom of that telephone pole, looking up, with his mischievous grin. I knew because I had shared that same feeling with him in line at the performance.

I have often tried to grab more of life; to take some chances while remembering the lesson of choosing those chances carefully.

Occasionally, even now, some thirty years later, when I am standing in line to see a movie or pay for groceries, I will remember that night at our choir performance. I think of my best friend, Rodney, and the adventure we shared.

And I smile.

David A. Cronin is the Content Manager for New Age Cities. David welcomes your Questions and Comments; he can be reached at "content@newagecities.com".

If you have enjoyed this article, may we suggest the following; also from David :

	Sacred Objects
	What would you have me know ?
	Embarrassing Moments and a Girl Named Summer
	Random Musings and Other Distractions - Part I
	Random Musings and Other Distractions - Part II
	Psychic Experience and Car Maintenance
	The Empty Frame Upon the Wall
	Things I would like to be, just for a moment.
	Echoes of the Past
	The Park

Share this with a Friend  |  Return to the Inspirations Home