Jerry Walters was my closest and oldest friend. Our friendship goes all the way back to the tenth grade in high school.
At that time, from my perspective, Jerry had it all — money to spend, a car, and an unlimited supply of fancy clothes. His Dad’s used car business was booming in those post WWII years, and, to me, he provided Jerry with everything a high school kid could want.
Our close friendship got started when Jerry started dating. Girls in that era would always insist on bringing a friend on any date as a sort of security measure I guess. That resulted in Jerry inviting me along, a nerd that rode a bicycle to school, had no money, and wore hand-me-downs. My job on these dates was to occupy the extra girl. It was great for me as Jerry paid for everything, and even let me drive so he and his date could sit in the back seat and explore.
After high school, I was determined to try working my way through college. I think I set an example for Jerry, as he decided to try as well. But by this time his father’s used car business had collapsed as the WWII induced car shortage had ended. Hence we both ended up working our way through college while sharing a one-room, efficiency apartment. Jerry drove a cab at night and went to class during the day; I worked part-time during days around the few classes I could fit in.
But we both eventually graduated after a long, grinding haul. Jerry joined the Navy; I got a job with the Navy. We both got married, started families and our jobs separated our lives. But every chance that our paths crossed from then on, we would always go out together as well as take family vacations together. There were numerous, memorable moments we all shared–most of my best memories are with Jerry and his family.
Eventually, we both got old, retired, and stayed where our last jobs left us: Rita and Jerry in Virginia, Carolyn and I in Mississippi. Age and infirmities limited our visits, so we drifted apart in our final years. Apart, but not forgotten.
And in closing I’ll say: I won’t cry because our close friendship is over; I’ll smile because it ever happened at all.
And to that memory an old man offers this ode:
My friends depart, and too soon forgotten,
As time rolls fleeting by.
In later years there’s no one left,
Not one to heave a sigh.
But we here now will ever mark,
For those of us who care.
At this the sunset of Jerry’s fate,
Recall the good times we did share.
My best to you, Rita. Now and always.
Robert