My First Best Friend

           So I’m lying in bed tonight and I can’t stop thinking about the first person I would have called my best friend, Mark.  And other than seeing his name on facebook a few months ago and sending him a friend request, I haven’t thought about him in years.  Mark has always been my most daring friend.  He always had drive and ambition, which helped him always be able to excel in whatever he did especially if what he was doing required physical agility.  But we haven’t even spoken for nearly 20 years, so why do I lay in bed thinking about him now?

I don’t remember for sure if I was 4 or 5 when I met Mark, but I suspect around 4.  He lived down the street from me about 11 houses away.  I remember I could ride my big wheel to his house.  Mark was fun to play with, he had a great imagination and could pretend he was superman, or a BMX Bike rider, or a Quarterback, or whatever.  Our Imaginations complimented each other.  I was a dreamer, I liked to live in the world in my head.  We would always choose parts to play out of the movies we watched.  If it was Star Wars he was Luke and I was Han.  If it was Superman he was Lex Luther and I was Superman.  And we always traded back and forth who played who. 

Behind our houses was a wonderful playground we called “The Sand Hills”.  Because it was an undeveloped part of South Ogden whose central figures were these hills of sand.  (We had such original names for things)  But The Sand Hills were more than sand there were areas near the local creek, Burch Creek, which were filled with scrub oak and other larger trees.  Needless to say The Sand Hills was a kid’s paradise.  They became our forest moon of Endor, or Medieval Castles, or whatever landscape we needed as back drop to our imaginations.

We got into trouble quite a few times up in those hills.  Mark was very into trying out increasingly dangerous activities.  We were four and five and six years old, we weren’t base jumping or anything.  But if our parents knew we would have been in a lot of trouble and by today’s standards would be unthinkable.  I was quite often chicken to go as far as Mark wanted to go.

 One time he got it into his head that we could jump the Burch Creek that acted as a border between his house and The Sand Hills.  It sounded fun until we inspected the situation.  At the smallest point it did not seem possible.  And the more we looked the more frightened of the endeavor I became.  But not Mark, Mark thought about it again and again until he figured it out.  When I came by one day he informed me he had done it, and it was my turn.

I really didn’t want to.  It did not seem possible, and even though I really only stood the risk of getting wet, I had built the consequence up in my head to be nearly my fatality.  He told me I could do it, showed me how to do it.  Cheered me on until, I did it.  He wouldn’t let me fail. 

Time and time again this was the case.  We both had similar imaginations, and creativity.  But while I was content to dream about something, Mark wasn’t content till he did it.  And because of his natural physical ability, and his tenacity he usually achieved what he set out to do.

I suppose this divide is why we drifted apart.  You know it wasn’t an overnight thing.  I just moved further and further inside my own head, and he became more and more active.  From Kindergarten to 3^rd Grade we were almost inseparable, but never again.  Throughout elementary school we played on the same little league team.  Mark played centerfield, and shortstop and eventually pitcher.  I was always put out in right field, I didn’t catch well and that seemed like the place I could do the least damage.  Heck I didn’t care it gave me time to daydream.  Often while playing Centerfield Mark would have to clean up the balls I didn’t or couldn’t get. 

Marks interests and my own interests grew ever more apart and in the 4^th – 6^th grades we were friendly with each other but not what you would call friends.  I know I saw him from time to time in Junior High, but in high school I only have one memory of him.  I had been sluffing a lot and needed to make up some work in auto shop.  Mark was in the advanced class and was assigned by Mr. Leatham to help me.  He did most the work; I tried to help where I could.  We exchanged pleasantries, he asked how my dad and mom were, I did the same, and we went through each family member until we had nothing left to talk about.  He finished the project while I watched in relative silence. 

This seems like a sad tale, but it really isn’t.  Just like me Mark has probably not given me much of a thought since that day.  Our interests would always be significantly different.  And judging from what I saw on his facebook page, they definitely are.

 I am not writing this to pine over the loss of our friendship or opportunities lost.  No I am writing this to figure out why 20 years since I have even spoken with Mark, I couldn’t get him out of my head tonight.

But in writing this I think I’ve figured it out.  I have a chance in my life to both leave what is in my head inside and just dream, or to get over my fears and step out of my comfort zone and do something.  Now if you knew me, shy and introverted would not be how you would describe me, but there are remnants of that kid, who was quite introverted, still there. 

Mark is the voice inside my head saying to take a chance.  A voice from the past, encouraging me to not be scared.  Dreaming is ok, but that’s all it is unless you do something about it.  Fear is ok, inspect the problem, and figure it out, but then make that leap.  That leap is everything, not making it keeps you from the doing what you want to do.  When I was a kid it was The Sand Hills, as an adult it could keep me from progressing and being who I know I should be. 

I have to say, it is amazing what you learn as a kid.