Lent Day 21: A Wake for Bobby

I was corresponding with an old grade-school chum (via Facebook) and it triggered a different memory about other boyhood friends (twins) who changed my life.  Here's what I wrote:

The other memory is that there were two brothers, twins:  Bobby and Jimmy.  I hung out with them and others throughout grade school and junior high school.  By senior high, we kind of lost touch with each other -- different interests, different groups.

I think it was sophomore or junior year of college at Christmas Break, and some of us alum would reunite, informally.  I actually didn't do too much of that.  But as Bobby was driving home from college from upstate, his car hit a tree on a wintry night with slick roads.  His head hit the left column (support for the windshield); for a day or two he lay in a hospital bed, brain dead.  Then his family pulled the cord. 

If I recall correctly, he had just gotten engaged to be married, and this would have been the first time some of the home towners got to meet her.  (He was driving alone at the time.)

Almost everybody who was in town went to the wake and the funeral.  I was so unfamiliar with the rituals at the time.  I knew about being quiet and somber; it was at the reception I came to learn that it was a celebration of Bobby's life, the joy he brought into everyone's life, and his love for life.  Everyone was sharing stories of their fun times with Bobby.

The story I shared was back in elementary school, when I was being rough-housed by a bully.  It speaks volumes that I can't remember his name or what he looked like.  He had shoved me to my back on the playground (before school I think) and then sat on my chest, punching my face.

Twins Bobby and Jimmy, who I didn't know that well at the time, acted like hockey referees.  That is, each twin pulled my assailant and me far away from each other.

I don't remember which twin said the following:  "Why are beating him up?"  "Because he's a Chink."  "So what?  You're a (I would insert the ethnic group here if I could remember), he's a black, she's an Italian, he's Polish, I'm German..." while pointing at folks in the crowd.  "It doesn't matter.  You can't beat on people just because of their background."

We were all in third grade.  I got much closer to the twins over the next few years, because they were fun to hang out with, and obviously I liked the way they treated people in general, especially me.

I had recounted that story to them in our senior year, by which time we were hanging out in other circles, although we were still friendly.  Neither of them remembered that story at all, although they weren’t surprised that it was something that they would have done.

As for me, I’ve obviously never forgotten it… or them.

I always recall this friendship as part of my spiritual journey.  I grew up unchurched and I never really discussed religion with Jimmy and Bobby (who were raised Catholic).  But the act of pulling that bully off me and to a greater extent their comments to the bully told me reams about their character; whether that came from their family upbringing or their religion didn't matter... I liked the source of their values.  I always sensed it was something worth exploring further, which I eventually did although not with them.


At the funeral reception, I'll never forget the sound of laughter which seemed so contrary to the somberness of the funeral itself.  It was just one of the ways of saying goodbye to someone who was so loved.  That entire experience (wake, funeral, reception) was one of the memories I had in the back of my head while describing western, Christian mourning rituals such a visitation to my colleague, N.




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