Suddenly, my childhood friend has died. He was born in 1965. That made him 43. I have heard that he killed himself. No small wonder with all the pressure his dad put on him - he could never be good at anything - according to Ed. Randall was too young.
Randy was my best friend growing up. Even though he was 2 1/2 years younger than me. We met at the school Science Fair, when I was showing my Multiplication table machine for the grade 6 students. He marvelled at it - it was basically a box with nails in it wired all under it. If you selecetd the wrong answer it buzzed - right answer - a light came on. (All the parts were from a butchered Operation game).
After that we did everything together. He was like a younger brother to me. Below are some of the great times we shared:
We used to play marathon (days and days without end) playing the game PayDay. We were so involved we had to use adding machines because we ammassed more money than the bank had.
We built forts together in the bush.
We drank beer and suntanned in his back yard, listening to the same music we both liked. Most of the music we listened to was from an old jukebox, Mr. Husack had in his basement.
We played shuffleboard. We played Atari Pong together. We played Armchair Quarterback.
We rode bikes together and then motorcycles.
We camped at Clear Lake together.
We had coffee together at Gondola Pizza. We both worked for that restaurant as well.
We did some not so good stuff together as well. We drank his dad's liquor (Pear schnapps and cream was our favourite!)We did drugs together, experimenting with Weed and even LSD and Speed, (Sorry Dad, there are some things your parents really do not want to know)...
We went to school together - At Royal, we were both in the photography club - hell. We were the photography club), then again at Shaftesbury, he in grade 9 and I in Grade 11 , again we were the photo club and took 90 % of the yearbook pictures...) We talked about hot cars together. He helped me push my first car ( a baby blue Beetle) home from half way across Charleswood, because it had no licence.
We drove down Portage Avbenue at night in my hopped upped Duster, smoking Old Port Tipped cigars - with our friend Royden.
He bought a bright orange beetle as well. He liked his La Verda motorcycle - also orange.
He met Penny and married and had a child (Evan) but by that time - we had lost touch. That doesn't mean that I won't miss him.
It just means that I waited too long to visit him on my many trips to Winnipeg.
I miss you, Randy. We will always have the word: "Regina".
Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.
And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.
And he rang mine but we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.
"Tomorrow" I say! "I will call on Randall
Just to show that I'm thinking of him."
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner, yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram sir," "Randall died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.
Remember to always say what you mean.
If you love someone, tell them.
Don't be afraid to express yourself.
Reach out and tell someone what they mean to you
Because when you decide that it is the right time it might be too late.
Seize the day.
Never have regrets.
And most importantly, stay close to your friends and family,
for they have helped make you the person that you are today.
Hall of Fame catcher Yogi Berra died Tuesday at age 90, the Yogi Berra Museum announced.
