Another Form of Social Distancing

I was schlepping my six empty two liter bottles of Coke out to the recycle bin when someone walking by on the sidewalk shouts, “Hey!”

I look up and it took me a second or two to recognize him...Jack from down the street. When I knew him he was a good 10+ years younger than I and didn't run in our circle but being a neighbor at one point, he was still familiar.

I walked over to him and thought, “Yep, that's him...I recognize the eyes.” When I was close enough he fired out his life's story at me in under twenty seconds, and part to explain why he was back in the old neighborhood.

“...and then I walk in to see my wife banging a guy about your age!” When he said it like that I kinda felt guilty...but for what reason? I have to defend every guy in their 50's?

He goes on.

“Three kids! Three different whores! I'll never get with a girl again...it's not worth it!” he complains.

I was sort of half listening because I was focused on his beard, his VERY gray beard.

“How old are you now?” I ask. I had to ask twice to break him from his obsession with his three failed relationships.

“45” he tells me.

“You're 45? I say with some surprise.

“Yep!”

I then remind him of when he was 15...and the age I'll probably always remember him at. Around the corner, M had his garage and he fixed people's cars there. It also served as a bar and we locals would sit around in it getting drunk. Up comes Jack on his ten speed, trying to fit in with us older guys and we give him a beer, then two, then tree and two hours later we have him good and soused.

He then feels it's time to go home and he gets on his bike and then pedals furiously out of the drive way onto the street. He probably got about 40 feet before he lost control of the bike and went SPLAT right onto the tarmac. He was wearing just summer shorts and when we got to him, he had a nice minor grade road rash up and down his face, back and right leg. He sat there, bewildered about what had happened. We got him to his feet and wormed a promise out of him to NOT tell his Mom where he got so drunk at, should she wonder why her son was bleeding all over and smelling like Michelob.

“God....I remember that.” Jack tells me.

He goes on to tell me other woes besides cheating wives, moving back to Rhode Island and why his foot was in a brace.

As I hear this, I hear a past conversation I had with Barn as he commented on a similar story I had told him about another guy I had known whose life had hit the skids.

“See what you missed Ron?” “See all the bad marriages, the bad bankruptcies, the bad kids you NEVER had?” he says. “All that shit other people get involved with and crash and burn with...you avoided. Hell, you were far enough away from some to even avoid any splatter!” After reminding myself of that conversation something else occurred to me due to his awful luck...

The other thought I had was...”Does Jack have covid?” And I stepped back a bit.

So I wished Jack luck and watched him limp to his childhood home. He came home to save money to restart his life once again, with hopes of opening a new business.

I dump my Coke bottles finally, and wonder again all those I have known who have lived their lives bouncing off one wall then the other, making their way down life's hallway getting bruised and bloodied. Personally, I hate messes. They're hard to manage and clean up and can divert you from your intended direction that day, or in life. I'm not saying I was a perfect navigator, hell, I SUCKED at it when much younger but after a while you learn NOT to put your hand into the fire...repeatedly.

Yet I see people do this again and again.

**

I once got the ire from a 20 Something girl I was talking to a while back. I had admitted that I reject 95% of the girls I meet because I had learned something about their Smash Up Derby lives. Hell, these girls admit it like it was a Badge of Honor. What tips me off is when the girls tell story after heroic story of surviving these crashes in life. “Story after story...Uh Oh! Why the repetition?” I think.

She became pissed with me because my view had touched a raw never in her...she was one of those people who repeat fuck up after fuck up in their lives.

“You think your SOOO perfect!?” was her response.

“No I don't. I have some deep scarring on my back from bad sunburns and teenage acne. I can be a skinflint when it comes to money. I can become cold blooded and walk away from 20 year friendships should they go sour and not feel bad 5 years after about not wanting to patch them up.”

“But I try look before I leap. And there's too much other people's shrapnel out there and I learned to duck.” I finally said.

And that old admonition chimes in my head...”See what you missed Ron?”