Sunday, March 2, 2014

Long Gone But Not Forgotten

When I was a freshman in Junior High, my older brother approached me one Saturday afternoon and asked me if I'd babysit for a friend of his that night. "Sure," I answered, because who didn't like earning a little extra money. "Who is it?"
He told me who the friend was, that it was his little brother.

Now as a little sister, I had a HUGE crush on this particular friend so I was happy to babysit for the family. "How old is the kid?"  Keith answered, "He's 13."

This didn't sound right because I was 13! "Um...why does a 13-year-old need a babysitter? And how come I don't know him? Shouldn't we be in the same class?"

Keith explained to me that Mark had a heart condition and had gone through several surgeries, and had missed a lot of school. And because of the heart condition they didn't like to leave him alone. So I wasn't there to "babysit", per se, but more for company. And when Keith mentioned what they'd pay, I was all in.

So my father took me over at the appropriate time and I met Mark for the first time. Yes he was a little small for his age, but he was cheerful and friendly and a real good kid. He was only in 7th grade because of the surgeries. Anyway, we hit it off and he told me a bit about what it was like living with his particular condition; and he showed me the long scar that ran down the middle of his chest. We watched TV and had a snack, until it was time for him to go to bed. I felt kind of weird telling a kid my own age to go to bed, but rules were rules and he knew them.

That left me to my own devices so I remember I turned the TV to the Miss America pageant and curled up on the couch. Then after about an hour, my crush, Johnny, came walking through the door. It was the 70's so of course he had the flowing Peter Frampton hair, requisite t-shirt and tight hip hugger bell bottoms. What wasn't to love, ha-ha?  I jumped up and told him I'd call my dad to pick me up but he said not to worry: I could finish watching the show and then call my father. And for the next 45 minutes I was in heaven: pretending I was on a date with him and sharing some Freihofer's chocolate chip cookies. Afterwards, I called my father after being paid a handsome sum, and went home.

I kept Mark company several more times that year, I didn't get another magical night with Johnny but that was okay. It was nice to also see Mark in school and say hi so he got the thrill of an "upperclassman" having him in their radar. But we never let anyone know I was his babysitter.

I haven't thought about Mark in longer than I can remember. But I was driving home from church today and he crossed my mind. He died a little over a year after I first babysat him. He was a good kid who definitely was gone too soon, but I'm so glad I had the chance to meet him. He was courageous and bright and the glass was always half-full. If more of us could have even half of the optimism he had about life: then how much brighter our lives would be. 'Nuff said.