I went through a box of pictures, letters and memories tonight that I have not gone through in years. Maybe decades. You wouldn't believe some of the silly, really silly and touching memories I found.
And then I found this picture of my boots. Big smile. This picture brought back a really fun memory spent with Steve Brown.
Who would ever imagine having one of those crazy ideas to go catch rays in the middle of January, in the Sierras, with Beach Chairs, Fudge Stripe Cookies and Nestea Sweet Ice Tea over looking Highway 80?
Me neither. But for some silly reason we thought of it, and we did it.
We drove up Highway 80 in his restored '69 (?) Chevy Nova. It was a beautiful sunny day and we found a spot to park that overlooked the highway. We laughed at how cool we must look to everyone headed to the ski resorts: us in beach chairs, shirts off, like we were getting a tan at Folsom Lake.
Music cranked, all kinds of snacks.
It was all fun and games until Steve couldn't find his car keys.
We were sitting in about a foot of snow at least 300 feet from his parked car. His keys were nowhere to be found. We were about 2 hours from home. Suddenly, it didn't feel so warm and sunny any longer.
This was long before cell phones. This was long before our parents confirmed where their children were. Long before where we weren't where we told them we were... right?
We never found his keys in the snow. Here's where Steve became super human in my eyes. He jogged two miles down Highway 80 to a gas station and called a friend of ours. Collect.
He jogged about 1.5 miles back and stopped.
He then turned around and jogged the 1.5 miles back to the pay phone to tell Grant not to come.
And then Steve jogged 2 miles back up the mountain to me.
Why? Because Steve heard a jingling as he was jogging...
Turns out Steve had a hole in his coat pocket and the keys had found their way through that hole and around to his back, to the bottom hem of his coat...
Two things about this story make it special to me:
A. Steve was super human running up and down the highway in the Sierras. And yet he laughed at the whole situation, relieved he found his keys and saved Grant a trip 2 hours to come save our asses. I would have been ripshit at God, Fate and my entire life.
B. No Alcohol was involved. Steve didn't drink. And this was one of those crazy fun times where you'd think drinking would be involved, and it wasn't. I think about that part a lot. We had a blast, and no drinking was involved.
Before I say the next part, I want to say that I think about this memory a lot. It helped define FUN in my life. It is possible that Crazy Fun doesn't need alcohol, just a silly idea.
But here's the next part:
Steve Brown was later killed by a drunk driver.
Steve was one of those really amazing human beings.
I can't believe he's gone.
I drove down Greenback one rainy day and looked up at the the cemetery. In the pouring rain, I saw a figure hunched over Steve's grave. It broke my heart. It still does. I can still picture it.
Steve really was all that.
.
