In first grade I had a crush on Ramona, the only girl in the class who consistently wore frilly blouses, lace, and flowered prints. To tell the absolute truth, I actually only called her my girlfriend because Matt Mitchel liked her and he and I had a little rivalry going. Matt ended up being Tina's boyfriend, who was Ramona's best friend, so by default I ended up with Ramona. Having a girlfriend in first grade meant I had to play with her at recess and do everything she said. Most recesses I pretended to be a giant vulture and she was Witchy-poo (both are characters from the Sid & Marty Kroft series H.R. PuffinStuff).
By third grade I had made friends with Doug Lane and Steven Fulk. Doug and Steven grew up next door to one another and were both boy scouts, so I was a bit jealous of their closeness. There was something rather meek and submissive about Steven and something strong and dominant about Doug. I didn't really care too much about being Steven's friend, but I really wanted to be Doug's friend. I wanted to be his best friend. I grew jealous of anyone who got his attention. I allowed myself to become Steven's friend, mostly so Doug would hang around me more. I had no idea why I wanted to be Doug's friend, but I really, really did.
In fourth grade I made friends with Kenneth Hadley. We pretended to be apes from the Planet of the Apes series. I was Cornelius (Roddy McDowall from the movies) and he was Galen (also Roddy, but from the TV series). I don't remember what religion he was, but it was something foreign to my fourth grade brain. He and his family moved away that following summer. I liked Kenneth as a friend, but I still wanted desperately to be Doug Lane's friend. Something in my juvenile mind made a separation. Kenneth was just a "friend" but Doug was someone to be desired. It wasn't overtly sexual, although it was probably subconsciously sexual. My brain hadn't made that distinction yet; it had simply began dividing friends into different categories.
In fifth grade a new family moved in, just up the hill from our house. These were the Peknecs, cousins to my friend Darrel Schumaker. Davey Peknec was my age, and was fun to hang around. We would walk home together sometimes after school, to the consternation of my mother who wondered where I was. Davey's older brother Randy was in the same grade as us. He had gotten held back a year. He was the first guy close to my age who had a prominent Adam's apple. I liked him very much. He was a bit rough during recess, which I didn't appreciate; he liked to wrestle, punch, throw things, etc., but always in a playful way. Occasionally I'd go on hikes in the woods with both Davey and Randy. Again, my brain divided the two brothers into "friend" and "desired friend".
Years later, after I had returned home from Phoenix, Arizona and was working as a drafter for Morse Bros. Pre-stress Concrete Plant, my friend Darrel Schumaker dropped by my parent's house (where I was living at the time). We talked for a while, but realized we had become two completely different people. Darrel had discovered alcohol and had quite a good time with it. I never touched a drop at that time. I asked him about Dave and Randy Peknec and was surprised to discover Randy still lived nearby, albeit in a neighboring town. I looked up his address and left a message at his house, scrawled on a piece of notebook paper stuck in the screen door.
A week or so later Randy pulled into my driveway in a shiny metallic-flaked-red flawless classic GTO. It was a beauty and so was he. Randy had a small waist, broad chest, immense muscled arms, a toothy grin with smiling eyes and that same incredibly protruding Adam's apple. Over the next few weeks I would help him work on his car or trade shots with his pistol at target practice. His beautiful wife Samantha looked vaguely like Elizabeth Montgomery, so they named their dog Endora. I joked if they had a baby girl they'd have to name her Tabatha. Randy was a dead-eye aim with his gun. He didn't have a concealed carry permit, but he still kept the pistol in the glove compartment of his fabulous car.
Later I heard that Randy had been driving down the gravel road to his house when a couple teenagers threw some big rocks and hit the cherry car. Randy pulled over and aimed the gun at them to scare them. He had then been arrested and thrown in jail. That was the last time I ever saw him again.
Randy was terminally straight. I concluded he was one of those guys that you could get incredibly drunk and he'd still never show you his junk. He was fun to look at, but gawd was he simple! For a while I could stand to hang out with him, but honestly I've never been able to put up with someone that incredibly boring. He was a nice guy, don't get me wrong, but he lived a life full of sports, beer, cars, Penthouse Forums, and guns. That may be a fantasy for some, but I've always needed more.
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