I am deeply saddened by the loss of my old friend Jeff. I have always admired Jeff?s unique and sometimes sideways view the world which allowed him special insight to subtle truths that could be hidden in plan sight, stuff that often eluded others, stuff that made you do a confused scooby-doo-head-tilt and say ?Huh??, then ?Oh, I get it? followed by ?Hum, never thought of it that way before.? I also loved his dry off beat humor which makes writing this remembrance so darn difficult, because as I reflect on the times we spent together, I can only smile and laugh. He gave me an abundance of humor and joy. Jeff and I first met forty-four years ago and could be best described as ?those two dorky, pimple faced, long haired, thirteen year old dweebs that lived one house away from each other?. We quickly became close friends. Jeff enjoyed crashing and rebuilding model airplanes. One late night while mending one such bashed-up-mess-of-a-plane he said to me ?I hate the word ?landing?, airplanes don?t land they have controlled crashes! It?s just that some crashes are more skillfully done than others…takes practice?. His message has resonated with me throughout my life. During our adolescence we experienced many of life?s crashes. Just like his smashed up planes, we mended our own lives, helping each other glue bits and pieces of our own fragile egos back together while tending to the immediate task at hand of replacing a rudder, polishing a telescope mirror, talking about girls, or simply ?shooting the crap until the wee hours of the morning in the beloved garage on Irwin Avenue. At each others side, we managed to grow and experience the hard landings and stuff we never should-a done. Like: We never should-a Flicked that match at our homemade Roman Candle consisting of hundreds of match heads painstakingly jammed into an extra large One-a-Day vitamin bottle…especially while on the bottom bunk bed. We bashed our heads senseless on the steel framing of the bed above dodging its fiery bullets and learned that laughing hysterically at each other, while bouncing around like a couple of monkeys, doesn?t lessen the pain nor stem the flow of blood from small head wounds. We never should-a Simultaneously taken a big swig of warm RC cola while trying to impress girls at the mall. Copious amounts of Cola mixed with God knows what sinus juices foamed-forth out of our nostrils, again we laughed hysterically at each other, yet it did not lessen the pain nor did it stem the flow?the foam just got thicker. We never should-a- Assumed the trajectory of our bottle rocket with his Dad?s car in close range. Although, we pointed our rocket to the stars, the law of teenage physics somehow guided it through the one inch window gap, and it exploded on the driver?s seat. After many errors and course corrections, our life skills improved, and the crash landings became smoother and softer. Finally, when Jeff could talk to a girl without cola foaming out of his nose, he asks out the one he had been endlessly talking about. He surprised me as he landed a beautiful winner on the first pass. Patty. Well done my friend. A few years latter he surprised me again by building the ultimate plane? A ?Jet? and so it was that Jerrett was born. Jeff loved Patty and Jerrett above anything else in this world and, of course, loved his dogs Rocket and Booster. A short while back, I was fortunate to spend quality time with Jeff. We revisited the old hood and checked out his childhood home on Irwin Ave. He was pleased to see that little had changed, and the garage still looked like that junky hobby hangout we cherished so much as kids. Buddy, I could tell stories about the two of us all day long, but it?s time to go. I don?t want to. I was looking forward to getting old with you and doing more ?grounded? activities. Something that didn?t involve crashing and rebuilding. Perhaps lawn bowling? Going to miss ya dearly old friend,
