it sucks to lose a friend.

Vinnie and i grew up together about a mile apart. he had a whole bunch of brothers and sisters, but i ended up being the closest to him. we hung out during school and after, either during lunch or on the farm or wherever. he was the first, and last, person i ever punched in the face. that was in 3rd grade when i was racing another kid to the locker room and we bounced off the door like we hit a brick wall--because vinnie was on the other side holding the door shut. the other kid pushed him into the corner and i hit him in the face. afterwards, he told me it was a pretty good punch--and luckily for me, he didn't give one back. he was that kind of guy--if you were his friend, he'd never cross you. he'd move a mountain for you, and he knew he could do it--cuz he was Vinnie, that's why.

he could do it all. got 5 gallons of ice cream? he could eat it. (he puked afterwards.) need someone's ass kicked or life threatened? he would do it for you, no fear whatsoever. got two big macs that need to be eaten to impress a chick? no problem for Vinnie. need some haywagons unloaded, engine block moved, stalled car pushed? Vinnie could do it, bad back be damned.



i remember when we were on the soccer team in 10th grade--one of the opposing team's superstar players was on the field creating quite a mess of our team. when Vinnie was subbed in, he ran full speed into the guy while going for the ball. we all expected him to go down hard, but out of a blur of green and red jerseys came Vinnie, full speed ahead, with the ball in front of him and the other guy on the ground behind. we no doubt got beat in the end, but at least Vinnie won that battle.

at the school dances, we were wing men for each other--not that we did much. it's hard to hit on the girls when you've got too much cologne and not enough balls. but at least you could have fun with the guys.

Vinnie was the one who got me the gig of co-editor of the yearbook. what a gravy gig that was--take pictures, screw off, get someone else to do whatever needed to be done. and who was the editor? Vinnie.

on the basketball team, Vinnie was always my partner for warm-ups and practice. more often than not, we were on the bench together. at mcdonalds after the game, we'd be breaking the salt shakers together (you know--when you stand a penny on it's side and slam the shaker down on top, and when the next person picks it up, it dumps salt all over the place.) good times, good times.



on the farm, we played street hockey and basketball. rode four wheelers, go carts, and tractors. all kinds of stuff. we'd go fishing on the St. Lawrence together. before i had my boat, we used his little aluminum fishing boat (actually, it didn't qualify as a boat, but rather a piece of metal shit.) that thing was about 8 feet long, 1 foot deep, and had geysers of water shooting up through the hull. i can't believe we survived that fishing trip on the st. lawrence with that widowmaker boat of his.

he was my right-hand man for building props for our school plays. we'd burn the midnight oil, painting & hammering & setting up walls & props. not only that, but we both played roles--ironically enough, side-by-side in both the junior and senior play. for the senior play, we needed a painting of Vinnie's character (a mortician) on the stage as a prop, so i painted a portrait of him, with my rendering of what he'd look like in his 50's. i always wondered how close it would be when he actually got to that age, so i kept it. it's still hanging on the wall in my bedroom.



Vinnie was "The Man" when he worked the door at the bars in Alex Bay. he'd always let my friend Mark and me in, underage and for free. that was back in the days when true "Power Hours" were still legal and you could drink and drink and drink and hang out with your friend at the door and watch him throw assholes through plate glass windows (which he did once.) and he was even so kind as to give me a neon beer sign from one of the bars that, technically, didn't belong to him. what a guy.

it was around that time when he also protected Mark and me from total oblivion--one night in alex bay, Mark made an alcohol-induced payphone call to a girl that i liked and told her to ditch her loser boyfriend for me. the next time we were in town, that same loser boyfriend and his posse found us and threatened to end us, which they could have done handily. Awww, SNAP! Vinnie to the rescue! he told the kid, if he got near us, he'd beat the crap out of them. Vinnie told us afterwards that the kid was shaking on his bicycle. again, what a guy.



when vinnie moved to texas, i was pretty bummed. one of the few guys i still knew in town was moving away! but it didn't much matter, cuz i went off to college anyway. for the longest time, i heard nothing about him, other than he was a contractor down in texas and doing well. Mark and i always talked about finding him again, but he came back on his own. this past spring, i came back to our hometown after being gone for about 5 years and so did Vinnie. we finally talked on the phone and met up at a pub for dinner & drinks. he hadn't changed at all, other than having a goatee, which was ironic because i'd just shaved mine for The Job. he was the same as ever--generous enough to buy a stack of lotto tickets for us to scratch off. of course, we spent what we won on more tickets and in the end, he was out probably 20 or 30 bucks, and i was out none, since i was broke to begin with. that was Vinnie--always generous and would do anything for you. he tried to strike it rich for me with his own money.

that was a couple months ago. we talked on the phone on occasion about meeting up again--to go golfing, to go to canada, to go to a bar, whatever. i had to decline every time because of work or money, always assuming there would be a next time when we could hang out. the last time i saw him was in mid-July--we met in passing on our street and promised each other that we'd try to meet up that weekend...

...but we didn't.

that week, while coming home from his construction job, his car went off the road, hit a pole, and rolled over. he and a co-worker were killed instantly. that was on July 29th, 2 days before his 29th birthday.

when i found out, i was stunned. i couldn't believe it.

how could a man, so strong and so tough, die?

he was the guy who could stop a moving train all by himself--how could he be dead?

he was the one i was supposed to call to go out with that weekend--how could he be gone?

he was the one i painted a picture of in high school--how would i ever know if i got the painting right?

now i'll never know.

the morning after the crash, i went to the scene to see for myself how this could have possibly happened. it's a surreal experience to see a friend's belongings spread all over the ditch; to see pieces of his car, to see mud puddles stained red. i found his Tarheels hat amongst the leftover bits and pieces and took it home to his mother. i didn't know what else to do.

the calling hours and funeral were difficult. the burial was the worst--watching parents bury a son sucks. they handed out yellow roses; i laid one on his casket. i gave hugs and handshakes, dried my eyes & blew my nose. i went home and stared at the wall. that was pretty much all i could do until i had to drag myself to work. i still can't believe he's gone.



rest in peace, Vinnie. you were The Man.