“You'll die at a rate of two per year.” Sister Mary Elephant told our graduating class of 1982. Not at the ceremony mind you, but in her European history class. We all just looked aghast at her at that seeming improbability. But she was one of the “with it” and friendlier nuns at Saint Rays high school and we believed her, sort of. But that kill rate wouldn't kick in for a long, long time, so why pay any mind to it now when we were all eighteen.
Now it's 2020 and from what I can tell, five to six out of our 100 graduating class size are now dead. All due to illness and not spectacular car crashes nor scandalous drug overdoses. I suspect that “two per year” average will ramp up briskly after decades of doldrums where everyone had an easy time of it staying alive.
I had met Mike Mulligan, when we were 15, on my walk home from Saints on Walcott street. We happened to pace one another one day and started talking. On one of the walks home, I had shoved my foot in my mouth about car racing. I told Mike only 'tards and rednecks would be delighted with cars going around in circles for hours.
“Have you ever seen it live? Or driven a race car.” he asks me.
“Nope”'
“I have. I sometimes help a pit team at the Seekonk Speedway.”
At first I didn't believe him but as he kept talking about it, the words he was using and such seemed to lend credibility to him.
Whoops...Shoved Foot Into Mouth for the 303rd Time. I was good for that when I was younger.
But Mike took my dismissive ways with a grain of salt.
For some reason we hit it off on some secondary, unsaid level. We both would try to one up one another on our “experiences” or what had done by the age of 15, trying to seem more adult. I had him beat on concert attendances and he had me beat at driving 150mph in a souped up Mustang. Looking back on all that, we both knew nothing about life nor was alive long enough to really bray about any substantial accomplishments. But that's what teen boys do, boast about our hot dogging ways.
He had me beat when it came to asking out girls. He did it first, before I had the guts to try it. There was one girl, an Italian/Greek girl with chinese black hair who I didn't really know but apparently was in our class. I was there to see him do it an unfortunately for him, she said “No.”
He had ran up to her while we were walking home and in a 70 second conversation with her I couldn't hear, I could tell it was a no go. He walked back to me like someone had stomped on his kitten. I felt bad for him really...and jealous, because he had the balls to try it. I tried to shore him up but it took a good week for him to heal himself from that sting. Teen love is hotter than hell but boy, ain't it sore as hell when it goes bad!
We graduated and as life has it, we floated to different parts of the world. I had seen him briefly while I was trying cross Armistice blvd, standing on the divider at a red light, he was stopped at it in a blue hopped up GMC pick up truck. The problem with that was that our conversation lasted two minutes till the red light changed and he had to drive off. He had joined the Army and was married. “Holy Shit” I thought, you moved fast! I was just attending classes at RIC and dated emotionally damaged girls as they were easy.
That was the last time I saw him.
Many years later we became “friends” on Facebook and I suggested we meet up again, as we literally lived blocks apart but he nixed that idea, saying he was too sick to do it. I initially thought it was a lame blow off but as I kept up with his Facebook posts, I found out he really wasn't in the best of health.
I saw various pictures he posted of himself and wow...was he ill with diabetes. I guess he had a severe enough case of it where if he ate 1/10th of a Snickers bar he'd collapse into a coma in a minute. I barely recognized his face in those pictures, but eventually remembered his eyes...he was in there still, somewhere. It was Mike, for sure.
I am told Mike died last week after years of being unwell. I then time warped back to when we were 15 and itching to grow up when we had all that great health, thinner, less scared skins and a more unblemished life. We were full of hope then for things that may happen to us, fun things, happy events. It wasn't always perfect but in general, we were in a better spot then, before life really gets you in it's teeth. And before you understand and accept, what limitations are.
“Two per year...” Sister Mary told us...wow...it's here now.
I spent a few young years on Top of the World with Mike, I'm glad I did.
15 Year old Mike, at Seekonk Speedway. How I prefer to remember him
