Mark lived across the street. We hung out a lot when we were really young - played baseball and football, rode our bikes in the street and around the neighborhood. As we grew older, we ended up moving around in different circles - school does that. The kids who were expected to go to college and those who weren't were channeled in different directions. But I really liked Mark - I think we had a mutual respect for something we knew in each other's character. He was a lot better in sports and had "street smarts," where I did well in "school." But I think we were both trying hard to be successful and to be good people, even as people were fighting for their own cliques and territories.
After going to college and leaving LA, I never really stayed in touch with many people back home. I didn't even go back home during many vacations - I really preferred the Bay Area and paving my own way in the unknown. I guess that's one reason I'm still in Japan after 20+ years. But during the first few years after high school, I would run into Mark when I was visiting. We'd talk about work, life, recreations, and memories. We were in two very different worlds, but we shared a common "place" on Vancouver Avenue in East LA. It was always really good to see him.
I'm not sure when he passed on, but I do remember seeing his two brothers and parents once in awhile after that. It was sad - it still is. It's probably more than 20 years since he passed away, but I still remember little things - the way he walked, his laugh that was almost a sneer, his huge smile, strong handshake, rough hands. Our roads diverged, but there's a bit of Mark in me, something from Vancouver Avenue - a bit gruff, tough, but friendly and joyous, too. We know how to make do...
Miss you, Bud! See you again sometime in another world.
