Salt Castings

I just got an email from Dawn that said a childhood friend, Joe Pearson, passed away yesterday.  Apparently he was on the treadmill at the gym and collapsed from a heart attack.

Joe is a year older than me.  He and his brother, Jamie, grew up just down the street on 29th.  They had a small house on the corner.  Two trees in the front yard and a chain link fence around the back. 

We played “cup ball” in the front yard, using various landmarks as bases.  Travis usually joined us from the house next door.  We played football in the back yard since there was more room.  In the spirit of fun, we would try to strategically stick one another into one of the larger bushes, or the fence at either end.  Jammed fingers, lots of swearing, sprained ankles, torn shirts, sometimes fists.  Mom would make sure I included Liz on some occasions, which only upped the stress level trying to make sure she was fairly treated.  Poor thing grew up on a block where the only other girls moved in after she was 10 or so.  I can still hear mom calling us to come home for dinner at dusk, the fall air clouding my breath and starting to chill my fingers while the rest of me was dripping with sweat.

Joe’s house was one of the only on the block with functional air conditioning, so it was no surprise I spent a lot of time there during July and August.  They also had HBO and MTV.  The hottest chick in the world was on three times a day during “Stuck With You” by Huey Lewis and the News.  In between we rocked out to Princes’ “Let’s Go Crazy” and ate tuna fish sandwiches on white bread.

Joe was built like a brick shithouse and tough as hell.  I watched him beat the crap out a loudmouthed kid outside the gym after one of Troxel’s summertime football camp workouts.  Years later I watched some guy snap Joe’s leg in a high school football game.  He spent months on crutches, but continued to work out doing what he could to stay in shape.

We talked a lot about hunting deer and pheasants, though I only think we chased birds together a couple of times.

I tried looking both he and Jamie up on Facebook yesterday but didn’t find them, which makes today’s news even more surprising.   I hadn’t spoken with him in maybe 20 years.   Thanks for the memories, the football games, and all the air conditioned good times, Joe.  You are already missed.