I was thinking about what it must be like to be in high school in the age of cellphones and Blackberry's and Facebook. When I was in school...passing notes was one of the main forms of communication (yup, I'm a dinosaur). This lead me to think about my friend Rod. Rod was killed in a car accident when I was in grade 12. He would have been all OVER things like cellphones and iPods. He would have scoffed at the idea of Facebook but I know he would have eventually succumbed to the pressure to join (I probably would have set up an account for him without telling him first!).
Rod was one of my best friends. There was a time when we were joined at the hip. My parent's knew him and liked him. My little brother thought he was too cool (especially after he taught Jayson how to start his socks on fire with the lint from a lighter!). My sister let him play 'Home Sweet Home' on her piano (to this day I can't listen to that song). We hung out every day after school, parted ways for supper and then, the minute supper was done and the dishes were in the dishwasher, we were together again for the evening. If we weren't together, we were yacking on the phone about Motley Crue's latest album or things that happened the previous weekend.
Rod at his grade 12 grad.
We didn't really do a whole hell of a lot when we were together. We were kids. Our antics during the week consisted of driving around listening to Cinderella or Ratt, hanging out at the park smoking or sitting in Annette's basement talking for hours on end. Sometimes we did stupid, immature shit. I remember one time we thought it was super funny to drive forward and backward repeatedly in front of our friend Warren's house. Warren and his parents couldn't figure out what the hell was going on as it was dark out. We thought we were HILARIOUS! Another time we found an old bowling ball and would roll it down the street and crash it into things. It seems to me we found that bowling ball somewhere near the “Devil's House”. That was another activity we often enjoyed. There was an old, abandoned house that was located off 33rd Street down a gravel road. Rumour had it that it was haunted. A few of us would go there after dark and basically wait until something scared the shit out of us...and something always did! Ahhh...the innocence of youth.
When the weekends rolled around, Rod's older brother would take our orders for the LBS and we would wait anxiously for him to return so we could get started on getting “wasted”. We would do this at the first available house (read: the parental units were gone out). We would always drink either Jack Daniels (I still have an empty bottle that we drank together) or Budweiser. I'll never forget when we were drinking at my house one time and my parent's came home. They didn't mind so much that we were drinking but when Mom noticed that Rod and I were drinking beer with STRAWS she gave us supreme shit! It seems to me she told us to “grow up”...LOL! I remember another time drinking at my house. I had a little too much that night and passed out on the floor (sorry, Mom, but I know this isn't exactly a shock). Rod was convinced that I was dead and started crying. My friend Annette not only had to deal with me being passed out but had to try convince Rod that I was indeed, alive and...hmm...'well' just doesn't seem to fit here. Alive and out cold!
As close as Rod and I were, we tended to get into frequent arguments. We were both dramatic and stubborn as hell and it usually took a 3rd party to get us “back together”. The last time I saw Rod, that 3rd party just so happened to be a party.
My parent's and siblings had gone to my Uncle's farm for Thanksgiving. I opted out...and still to this day can't believe I was allowed to! That weekend there were 2 big parties going on...we called them “shakers”. One was on the East side...the other was at my house. This party was HUGE. I remember walking into the house after checking on a friend passed out in a car (!) and all I could see was a sea of people. Yup, it had gotten WAY out of hand (hindsight is 20/20). Anyway, Rod and I had been fighting for a couple of weeks (I think?) and I hadn't seen him at all in that time. He caught wind that there was a party at my house and he came over to show off his new Mustang (and it was brand-spanking new) and probably give me shit for not inviting him to the party. Over a shared cigarette, we made amends and made plans to get together the following weekend to watch a Guns 'n Roses concert I had “taped” from Much Music. Well...that never happened.
Rod was killed that following weekend. He was driving on a grid road and lost control of his car. Another friend also died in the crash. Two girlfriends that were in the car survived.
I can't tell you how often I still think that if I didn't have that party, Rod and I would have never called a truce and he would have died with the 2 of us still fighting...over something RIDICULOUS (the things we scrapped about were always ridiculous). I can't imagine the guilt that I know I would still feel.
Even though it was been 23 years since Rod died, I think of him often. I truly believe in my heart we would still be friends if he were alive. We were both just too damn sentimental to stay away from each other for long.
I guess that leads me to offer some motherly advice...Never, ever end a conversation with someone you care about on a sour note. Never walk away mad. Never let petty differences or arguments overtake a relationship/friendship. I know it can be hard at times but try think of the alternative. Imagine getting a phone call that someone you love is gone. Imagine that guilt and pain. We never know when our number is up so hold those you care about close to your heart--at all times...no matter what.
I miss you, Rod. Ratt 'n Roll buddy (PS. You would have loved Jagermeister!).
You know you love me,
Stacey xo
