My Sunday Feeling

 I got a text Thursday afternoon asking me if I had heard that C had died.  I had not.  Then again, I hadn’t heard anything about C in years other than he was in bad health.  I heard that from a man-one of the baseball dads at school- that used to work with him.  

I grew up with C.  He and my brother Dave were buddies. I seem to recall that we went to church together but I may be making things up.  That was a long time ago.  But we in school together from 5th grade through high school.

C could fairly be described as a recluse.  Which is kinda hard to do in this town. I called one of his high school friends to ask if he had heard anything.  Naturally he had not.  He said he last he saw C about 12 years ago.  After they had visited he asked C if he wanted to get some lunch sometime.  “No” was his reply.  I had better results.  I ran into C in the courthouse @ 8 years ago.  He said he needed to sit if we were going to visit.  Bad back.  “I never took care of myself,” he said I guess by way of explanation.  

Like his other friend I asked if he wanted to get lunch.  “Maybe,” he said.  I handed him my card.  Told him to call me.  Never happened.

I sent a message to his cousin.  Asked her if she had heard about C.  She was shocked.  Then again she hadn’t heard from him in years so she said.  I got a text from Baseball Dad. He said that it was his understanding that C had died in hospice care.  I heard back from C’s cousin.  She called C’s sister who confirmed her brother’s death.  

I think it’s pretty clear that C didn’t want many people to know even this final aspect of his business.  He was married at the time of his death and clearly she didn’t exactly broadcast his passing from a billboard on the highway.  In fact, I think I’ve only seen her once.  I couldn’t pick her out of a lineup if I had to. 

But I found it fascinating that people that would otherwise be somewhat in a position to know what was going on in his life did not have a clue.  Not a clue.  As I told one of my brothers, it was as if he didn’t really exist.  

As I have alluded to earlier it’s pretty hard to be a recluse in a town like Little Rock where everybody knows or is related to everybody else.  My wife has said that I am an introvert.  The first time she told me that was 5 minutes before I went onstage to basically do stand up for the old radio show “Tales From The South.”  I think I stared at her in disbelief as I ascended the stairs to do my shtick.  

Hell, I lived by myself until I met M.  So I guess I was an introvert to some degree.  But I was out in the world.  I ran my traps and regularly went up and down the contact list.  Truth be told, sha and I both like our downtime.  She watches movies in the den while reading feminist theology  I watch baseball while reading Sports Illustrated.  She confesses to being a homebody.  I’m getting there. We do a lot of takeout instead of dealing with the public.

But if our friends went more than a week without hearing from either of us, they would be concerned.  But the Deacon and I, though we have turned into “stay at home” types, are out there in the world.  We really exist.  And I like to think that folks would make themselves available if trouble was at the door.  

Which brings me back to C.  Obviously he didn’t want to have anything to do with many people, including his family and folks he grew up with.  His choice for whatever reason.  And he had every right to run his life the way he saw fit.  He was an honorable man and good and useful citizen.  

But when I die if I die, I hope I will have had the chance to visit one last time with people that I love or loved.  People that have been good to me and important to me in equal measure.

I hope C was happy in his solitary life. 

As for me, I’m sorry that another fleck of my childhood is gone. This seems to be happening with some frequency the older I get.

I wish he had called me for lunch.