Death is no stranger to those of us who survive for nearly eight decades. So why do we cry - as I'm doing now - when friends our own age die? As I write I'm sitting here, tears running down my cheeks, remembering my old friend, Vernon "Mumps" Meredith of Burket. Mumps died last week.My earliest memory of him is in Polly Baum's first-grade class at Beaver Dam, 1935. I have no idea why, but I can remember his proudly announcing, "I have a dog and I pull his tail." As always, when Mumps said something I thought it was neat. In fact, I couldn't wait to get a dog so I could pull his tail.
Years later, when Freddie Haney and I visited Mumps and Marcella, Freddie refused to get out of the car. He said, "Look at that monster out there. He could eat us in one gulp." I'm sure the dog had come to some sort of agreement with Mumps about having his tail pulled.
It must have been November 1936 when Mumps and I spent the recess looking out the widow at people passing to and from voting in the work shop building. I'm sure my friend knew which were Democrats and which weren't. I'm also sure that Mumps, being Mumps, forgave the Republicans - but I bet it took a while.
Marcella Dickey and Susie Craig were best friends. Mumps and I were best friends. Marcella and I and Mumps and Susie, in that order, were smitten by cupid. The most important manifestation of it was that we all once rode on Beaver Dam's teeter-totter. The girls sat on one end and Mumps and I on the other. Finally, Mumps and Marcella got this romance business right. They stayed together as sweethearts from 1945 until forever after.
There were so many things we remembered: Mary Bidleman's watermelons, and how I ensured our capture by wearing tennis shoes with a distinctive tread design; a romp through Elmer Dickey's fodder shocks to Elmer's (but not Marcella's) dismay; the trip to Chicago on the Pennsy to watch the Cubs play at Wrigley and firecrackers from atop the tall building also named for Wrigley; hundreds of trips to Warsaw on Saturday nights and Deerwester's pool room - where we learned a bit about pool and a lot about cussing; the autumn obligatory trips to all the fairs: Akron, Mentone, Bourbon and the big one in the county seat.
His serving in the Army and my serving in the Navy and the stories we swapped.
So many fond memories. And they were all happy ones. So, why the tears? Perhaps it's because when a good friend dies, a bit of us dies as well. But, now a smile in amongst the tears. I'm remembering a wonderful friend.
