I am writing a few hours after my life-long friend died. I have experienced the pain of family and friends dying before. But this time is different.
As a little boy I attended Mrs. Nelson’s kindergarten in what is now Park Avenue United Methodist Church in Chambersburg. That’s where I first met Steve.
I recall that we built forts out of large blocks that were actually small corrugated boxes. Steve and I were great at knocking them down, much to the chagrin of our teachers.
We then attended Stevens School. Years later, it was destroyed by a fire and was eventually leveled to make room for new housing. But when Steve and I attended, we could buy mosies from a neighbor lady down the street.
Mosies were rock candy that she made with sugar, water, flavoring and color. Once crystallized, she would break it into irregular pieces, wrap each in wax paper and put them on her window sill with a cup for money. For a nickel you could choose your favorite flavor and suck on the sugar candy until it disappeared.
Steve and I attended Central Junior High School together. Steve became a football player and jock. I became editor of the school newspaper. But we both sang in the Glee Club and spent many an hour at the YMCA on the swim team.
From the very beginning, Steve was a hard-working guy. He would get up before the sun rose to deliver newspapers and to save his money for a car someday. Meantime I developed a love for fishing and eventually hunting.
Our friendship developed. We went to parties together. Those years were innocent and giggly. We were invited to parties by girls who remain our friends to this day. We still talked about the first kiss we received playing spin the bottle, or while going on hay rides with various youth fellowships.
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In senior high school, we shared classes. Glee Club was a big deal for us. We both were selected for the Choristers. I sang tenor, Steve sang bass. And who could ever forget Steve’s rendition of “There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza.” His deep voice, raised eyebrows, and devilish smile still resonate in my memories.
HIgh school classes were times about which movies could be made. There was Mr. Beaker’s chemistry class. He would collect 10 cents from anyone who chewed gum in his classroom. I tried my darnedest to get away with it by chewing loudly when Mr. Beaker looked the other way, while Steve would wildly point at me when Mr. Beaker looked our way and I was trying to appear innocent.
Mr. Schwartz taught us geometry. His first name was Herbert. So Steve and I called him Herbie … but not when he could hear us. Steve hatched the idea to collect the class rings from the girls in geometry class. This was quite a feat since he could only do it when Herbie was looking the opposite way.
He hung the rings on the sides of his glasses along the temples on each side of the frames. You couldn’t see the rings from the front, but when Steve turned his head the rings would jingle. This caused everyone to laugh, and drove Herbie nuts.
Then there was Mrs. Elize McKenzie, our 12th-grade English teacher. She liked everyone in her class except me. In fact I spent more time in the principal’s office than in her classroom. The reason was that I did my homework — not at home — but during the time between when I entered her classroom and the time she collected the homework. That seemed to drive her nuts, which was the point, since the principal and I got along just fine.
Mrs. McKenzie asked us to produce a project. So Steve and I decided to partner and do a recording of Hamlet. I had a tape recorder and a Classic Comic Book. So Steve and I each took a part and read the words out of the comic book. We staged a sword fight with kitchen knives (we might have used forks).
When our masterpiece was finished, we took the recorder to school. Mrs. MckKenzie asked us to play it for the class. We did. In less than a minute she told us to stop and asked the class if they wanted to hear more of this terrible rendition of Hamlet. Everyone in the class said yes.
The entire remainder of the class period was spent with our recording, kids laughing and Mrs. McKenzie fuming. It was a great day!
Steve and I graduated together. He went off to Dickinson College. I went to Wittenberg University. Neither of us did well. Steve spent more time with his fraternity and sports than in the classroom. I was homesick and did not spend time in the classroom either. The next year we both were conditionally accepted to Dickinson. Four years later we graduated together.
During high school and college, we were the best of friends. We double dated. We were each other’s wingman. One of our fondest memories occurred once that early morning newspaper delivering earned Steve enough savings to buy a (used but in really good shape) convertible sports car. We were fond of going to the drive-in movie together in Martinsburg in the winter with the top down and the heater blowing full force. I can still feel the cool air circulating around our heads while the heater blasted hot air to keep us warm.
During college, Steve worked as a lifeguard at Stone Harbor, N.J. He became the head lifeguard. That’s where he met his life partner. One day Steve came to my house and said he needed to talk. He told me he had met this beautiful girl named Elise and he was in love. He wanted my opinion, because he was ready to propose to her. We talked and the rest is history.
Now more than 50 years later, two terrific sons and grandchildren, retirement from a distinguished career, and that girl who remained the love of his life, there was Steve. He lay dying in front of me. I was honored and blessed to have the opportunity to sit beside him for a while in his final hours, to hold his hand and to reminisce as best we could.
Yes, we all lose friends and family. Dying is as much a part of life as living. All those memories, all those wonderful times were what we held dear together. And without Steve they are no more.
I am so sorry. I love you, my friend.
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Bill Gindlesperger is a central Pennsylvanian, Dickinson College graduate, Pennsylvania System Of Higher Education (PASSHE) Governor, Shippensburg University Trustee, and Chairman of eLynxx Solutions. eLynxx software coordinates and drives communication, specifying, approval, procurement or production, reporting and activities necessary to obtaining direct mail, marketing materials, promo and all other printing. He is a board member, campaign advisor, successful entrepreneur, published author and commentator. He can be reached at [email protected].
