Posted 10:17 PM by Bonnie

Blogging for books #12 is here.
For this month's Blogging for Books, write a blog entry about one of three things:

A memorable trip or "mini-vacation" (with "memorable" covering everything from "best time of my life" to "unmitigated disaster");

A time you did something spontaneously, in order to shake up your life;

A time you metaphorically took "the road less traveled", and made an unpopular or uncommon decision.

I chose a time I did something spontaneously, in order to shake up my life. The following is my entry.


Eve of Res"erection"

I’m not exactly sure how Rick Lawson and Fred met, but I do know it was in the 1960’s and they were in high school. At that time the student body was made up of two distinct types. There were the hippies with their long hair and peace signs hanging around their necks. Some of the girls even had flowers painted on their faces. When they weren’t in school they were at peace rallies or marches protesting the Viet Nam war and singing the rally songs of the day. You could be sure to hear Blowin’ In The Wind, Eve of Destruction, and the most sung song of the time, one by Country Joe and The Fish called Feel Like I’m Fixin’ to Die Rag. The words were shouted more than sung by most of the kids. And it's one, two, three, what are we fighting for, don't ask me I don't give a damn, next stop is Viet Nam, And it's five, six, seven, open up the pearly gates ain't no time to wonder why, whoopee we're all gonna die
The other group was the die hard Nixon fans who seriously thought the war was justified and protested opposite the peaceniks. They sang patriotic songs like God Bless America and in their hearts I am sure they believed God was on their side. But, Rick and Fred didn’t fit in either group. In fact, they paid about as much attention to the groups as the groups did to them.
Rick with his wild red hair, freckled face and skinny body smirked at them. When he did pay attention it was to make some derogatory comment. They had to pass the recruiting office on the way to the chess club and often there would be groups protesting. Marching around singing and carrying signs that said things like “War is not healthy for children and other living things’ or “Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity.’ Rick would pass them and give them the middle finger, in essence saying fuck you to them. “Look at those lemmings, Johnson,” he’d say in a condescending voice only Rick could do. He perfected that voice over the years. It took me awhile to learn it was more of a defense mechanism than anything else. He wanted to belong but he didn’t fit. It was his difference though that would turn him into a brilliant playwright later in life, but in the 1960’s and being a teenager, fitting in was what counted.
At that time though, Rick prided himself on being an individual and not needing a group to make him feel anything he believed was right. Or at least so he said, but sometimes the sadness in his eyes weakened his argument.
Fred, on the other hand, was already over 200 pounds and was laughed at by most of the other students. The thing is academically Rick and Fred soared above the rest of their peers and I guess they had a bit of a superiority complex. Feeling they were so smart they didn’t need anyone, but they bonded and I guess they really did need each other.
While the others were out protesting, for one side or the other, Rick and Fred were studying or playing chess. Mostly playing chess. Rick’s goal was to beat Fred and Fred’s goal was to retain his status of the toughest chess player ever to walk the streets of Erie, PA. He was going to be the next Bobby Fisher. He was so confident in his ability he and Rick joined the Erie Chess Club. It was there Fred learned humility. It was also there where our paths crossed and our destinies were determined.
Yes, he still beat most of the players there, even though they were the youngest members, but one player had no mercy. Jason Albright could move so fast Fred barely had time to understand his moves before he had to make his or lose on time. Jason treated Fred as an equal, in spite of his youth, but at that time Fred took it as mean spiritedness. You rarely saw Jason smile. In fact he looked angry and lost most of the time. Fred didn’t understand him until years later, when he and I were discussing our youth and Jason came up. I had dated him during that dark time and explained he had epilepsy and his mother had been telling him she would be better off if he would just die. No one should have a mother say something like that to him or her. Fred felt guilty then for all the bad things he had said and thought about him over the years. Jason died in a freak accident in 1973. Not being able to drive due to his epilepsy Jason went everywhere on his bike. One day, crossing 2nd street he had a seizure and fell off his bike. Unfortunately he fell into the path of an oncoming truck and his head was run over. It was ironic in a way. Jason was so brilliant and the part of him that made him so formidable was gone. So I guess his mother got her wish. I hope she was happy.
Jason would have been the next Bobby Fisher if he had lived. I would see him in the park downtown and at the chess club playing ten games or more at a time. With his scraggly black hair, Abraham Lincoln face, and stooped over body he moved from table to table barely taking time to look at the board and make a move that would confound his playing partner. He never lost a game. Fred lost his first game to him and almost quit that day. Fred didn’t know how to lose. Chess was his passion and only those who play seriously can understand this compulsion to have to win. Jason crushed his ego and for that he could not forgive him.
But this story isn’t about Jason. It’s about Fred and Rick and me our drunken debauchery that led us to the brink and the test of friendship. A few years later I ran into Fred and Rick at the chess club and hooked up with them. We became chess playing and drinking buddies, but as time wore on Fred and I became closer and closer and soon were engaged. Rick couldn’t handle this and tried his best to break us up.
After one particular night of bar hopping and drinking we were all feeling pretty good and full of ourselves. We ended up back at my place. The three of us went up to my room and for some reason the size of dicks came up. Now, even though Fred is a large man he is not overly endowed, but Rick was constantly boasting of his thirteen-inch dick. I won’t say we were bored or that our barhopping and chess playing had gone stale, but there was something lacking in recent days. So, to add some spark I challenged him to prove it and sure enough, Rick pulled down his pants so I could measure. He said we had to measure it erect, so, with my lips and able hands I fixed that in no time and got out the tape. Yep, he hadn’t lied. It measured exactly thirteen-inches. The only problem now is he not only was drunk, but also with his erection in full force had become quite horny. He now knew one of the qualities Fred admired in me. He kept rubbing at his crotch and threatened to masturbate, if he couldn’t get laid. Rick started going for me and I looked at Fred wondering how he would react. He told us to go for it, and watched as we had sex. I couldn’t believe I had done that! Exhibition sex was not something I did, but the moment presented itself and I took it.
The next day I called to find out if Fred was mad and he told me no, that all he could think of was how he could get us to do that again. I laughed at his response and went over to spend the rest of the day together. Rick, on the other hand, was too embarrassed to come over for a while. Personally, I think he was more embarrassed he had not only come onto me but also had sex with the woman he said was not good enough for Fred.
No, it never did happen again. An event like that has to happen without thought and even if we did do it again the spontaneity and freedom of it would never be regained.