A compilation of memories
Lex and I went through grammar school together, became friends in our middle school years and very close friends in high school (he was one of my three best friends at that time), and stayed close after, though much less so than before in college and beyond. The below are some random memories I thought you'd enjoy.
Grammar School:
In 4th grade, our teacher taught us a lifelong lesson I'll never forget, a tool many teachers all over have used in their classrooms as well. We were given a long sheet of instructions that had things like "add a circle to the bottom right corner of the sheet" and "draw four triangles along the right side of the page". It was a fascinating list of strange but easy instructions. We were all hard at work on the page, most of us halfway down the list, when Lex began furiously erasing everything on the page in a wild burst of energy that had our teacher howling with laughter. We all laughed as well, but we had no idea what the joke was. She finally told us we could stop, telling us to look at the very last instruction on the sheet and then the top again. The very last instruction, which Lex had reached before all of us, said, "Now go back and only do number one on the list, and ignore all the others", and of course at the top of the page, that none of us had read or paid much attention to, the instruction was very clear: "Read everything before doing anything". We all had a great big laugh that day, and Lex was a very special part of it!
High School:
We played hooky once--once--and because it was a very big deal for us, we were very smart about it. We planned it out precisely, even to the minute. I told Lex what time I normally got picked up for the bus, and he drove his 1977 Pontiac Bonneville, aka Bonnie, to the block my bus picked me up from. It was around 7 AM (I think the bus was due usually around 7:05) and when I arrived, he appeared to be fast asleep in his car. I knocked, and he didn't wake up. I tried again, and he jumped up in a fit (his hamming skills were on pointe). He told me he slept there that night in his car. I didn't believe him, but I learned early on that going along with these stories made it all more fun for us both.
Later that day, we were coming back from the pool hall in Baldwin we'd often frequent. We always played for a very small bet--like a dollar or a free cup of coffee. Lex loved his coffee, and would add A LOT of sugar to it. I remember this old guy who worked at the pool hall--Lester, his name was--say to him, "You want some coffee with that sugar?" and Lex howled with laughter. Getting a rise from us was fun, but getting a reaction from adults seemed to take it to another whole level in his mind. Anyway, we were coming back from the pool hall, and were quickly approaching a red light at an intersection. I could tell he didn't see it, so I said first and then yelled, "Lex, red light. Red light!!!!!!" Lex slammed hard on the brakes, and we did a complete 180 in the intersection. Breathless, he didn't wait more than a few seconds before saying, "We gotta get out of here!" and hit the gas pedal, bringing us back quickly in the direction we'd come from. I know this sounds insane now as an adult, but somehow, Lex was always in control, even in that situation. I'm not saying he planned it--he wasn't stupid!--but I will say despite his excited laughter at the whole thing, I always felt completely safe with him. And I know for sure he drove that much more carefully after that day.
I used to work at the A&P, in the fish department among other departments. Lex knew when I was working, but he wouldn't say when he would pay me a visit. All I'd hear was a whistle in the distance: the tune of "Soul Peanuts". He'd do it from a long way away, like a bird you just barely hear outside the window, but then he'd get a bit closer and do it again. I'd smile and look around, but still not see him. He'd finally do it nearby then and appear, often while flipping a coin or a bottle or his keys around his finger.
Back to the Bonneville. There was a large hole in the bottom of the car, barely hidden by a mat, and Lex referred to this massive structural flaw as the gorilla pit. He told us to throw our garbage back there on top of the mat, so that when it was time to clean the car, all he'd have to do was remove the mat and let the garbage fall out the bottom of the car onto the street. Now I promise you, I never for a minute got the impression Lex would ever do such a thing, but he sold the story convincingly, so as teenagers, it all sounded quite believable and funny. He'd also carry a small bottle of coconut spray in the car to keep the Bonnie smelling fresh, and wouldn't hesitate to use it on YOU if you were "fresh" to him. All in good fun! And most importantly, he'd always, always, ALWAYS play jazz music on the radio. We had no choice, and could listen to nothing else. My favorite song, which he'd play quite often, was Dizzy's "Land of Oo-Bla-Dee".
College
As I mentioned previously in another entry here, I was living as a monk at Chaminade High School during my college years. Very often, my friends would send me letters, but at some point, it became sadly obvious that my letters were being read before I got them. My Assistant Novice Master even read one to me in a frightening encounter one day. Once Lex heard about this, he offered to get more crafty, and on at least two occasions, he hid letters for me in nearby bushes outside the school, and informed of where to look for them and when. It sounds crazy, I know, but hey, those were crazy days, and Lex wasn't afraid to do what he had to in order for us to stay in touch and not moderate himself!
Adult Life
I think we only hung out one time after I left the monastery, as he was off on new adventures by then and away from me and our mutual friends, but it was a very, very important day for me. We had some powerful, spiritual conversations, and he was extremely kind and loving to me when I came out of the closet to him as well. We went to a bookstore, I remember, and Lex told me to get "Your Sacred Self" by an author named Wayne Dyer. He said it would open my eyes to a new way of understanding my spirituality, especially as I was feeling more and more disaffectionate with the Roman Catholic Church. Sure enough, I read and loved that book, and have since bought many more Wayne Dyer books and DVDs over the years, both for myself and as gifts for loved ones.
Lex's spiritual interests got much more "out there" for my tastes, and though we stayed in touch over the past twenty years, I never took the time to make plans with him again. I so wanted to surprise him by attending a concert or performance, but I just never did. I regret it, but it's not a regret I'll hold onto for long. I know for certain Lex is still with me, as he is with you too, and I can't wait to see what kind of adventures we all get up to together in the great hereafter. Until then, I remain tremendously grateful for the great gift of Lex Samu in my life!
