To Kook, with Love

My earliest memories of life in this world include Kook.

Throughout the 60's and most of the 70's, he was my best friend. 


Kook lived two doors up the street from us and was a fixture at the Smith's house, as was I at his house. We played together, ate together, rode bikes together, spent the night together, fished together, got in trouble together... we grew up together. He even went on vacation with me and my family when we were kids. Friends? No, we were best friends. 

His name was Charles, but his dad nick-named him "Kook" because of the "Kooky" things that he did when he was very small. The name stuck. So, he was known by all in the neighborhood as Kook or Kooky. In the late 60's, he had long hair and his dad gave him a new nickname, "Charlie, the Hippie." Eventually, he just became known by his real name, Charles.


Today, Charles passed away. Instantaneously. Heart Attack.

I am writing this at 3:00 in the morning. I can't sleep. My own way of grieving, I guess.

Upon hearing the sobering news earlier today, I have been flooded with memories of days gone by... A suburban childhood in the Sixties -- the vast majority of which was spent with Charles.  Memories such as, walking down to Toshi's Market and getting a 16oz bottle of Strawberry Nesbitt's or RC Cola and a Carnation Vanilla Malt (with attached wooden spoon) for .25 cents. Playing War or Cowboys & Indians. Watching Jonny Quest on Saturday mornings. Catching tadpoles in Coffee cans. Trick-or-Treating together as long and late as we could go on Halloween, filling up our pillow cases with candy and treats. Dumpster diving throughout the neighborhood apartments for the new -- and valuable -- Aluminum Cans that we could recycle for cash. Playing catch or over-the-line at the school across the street. As teens, fishing at King Harbor in our inflatable rafts. 
The list is long and goes on and on.



In our adult lives, we went our separate ways. However, we remained friends. Unfortunately, he ended up in prison. I wrote to him, sent him a Bible with Bible Studies and tried to encourage him. He rededicated his life to God while in there. Upon his release, he came to church -- albeit sporadically.

I saw Charles a couple of months ago -- ran into him at the grocery store. We talked. We reminisced. We laughed. It was great to see him and spend time with him. Little did I realize that it would be the last time I would see him.

I am fortunate.

I'm fortunate to have the childhood that I did. 

I'm fortunate to be blessed with good friends and family.

I'm fortunate to have so many wonderful memories of simpler times. 

I'm fortunate that I grew up with Kook, Charlie the Hippie, and Charles -- my best friend.

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I miss him already.

Death of a Deacon

Yesterday's news of the passing of Deacon Jones, the Hall-of-Fame defensive end of the Los Angeles Rams, brought back several memories to my mind. Deacon Jones was a bookend of the legendary Rams defensive line from the 1960's known as the "Fearsome Foursome" (that also included Lamar Lundy, Merlin Olsen, and Rosey Grier). Deacon actually coined the football term "sack" and probably had more quarterback sacks than anyone in NFL history, including modern-day players, had they kept such records back in the days when he played.

My introduction to professional football came on my 10th birthday. My father purchased us tickets to the first NFC vs. AFC Pro Bowl, Which would be played a few days later, at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. Which, in retrospect, was quite a feat for my father, who was a pastor and had to sandwich taking me to the afternoon football game in-between Church Services on Sunday morning and Sunday evening.

That Pro Bowl was historic, not that I knew it at the time, for the AFL had just merged into the NFL and it was their first all-star game. I wasn't overly impressed at the time. The game at the half-empty Coliseum was actually pretty boring, until the fourth quarter when Mel Renfro (Dallas Cowboys) took two punts back for touchdowns. In fact, the highlight of the game for me was the halftime show that featured Evel Knievel -- who was a bigger deal than the NFL in 1971 -- riding 100-yard wheelies, both sitting and standing on his motorcycle. Though I remember being kind of bummed that he didn't jump anything.

In spite of the lame game, I did become a Rams fan after meeting a very cool Jack Snow (Wide Receiver, '65-'75) and remained one until the day they moved to Saint Louis.

The "Fearsome Foursome" is now down to one... The Preacher, Rosey Grier. Lamar, Merlin, and now the Deacon are all gone. However, the memories I have -- of sport, childhood, my father and days gone by -- still remain. They live on, forever with me in the annals of my mind.