Chuck was just seventeen when we first met. It was June, the summer of 1970. He was into the hippie scene. Handsome young man with dark-golden hair when the sun shone on him. Not a blemish on his olive complexion. He wore his hair to his shoulders with roman braids on the sides, and he grew a young man's moustache and go-tee beard. His style of dress was tye-dyed shirts or paisley prints, with blue denim bell-bottom jeans and sandals.
He had a lot of hippie friends and they use to play in a band, practicing in the upper apartment where he lived with his mother Jeneen. She was a hooker and a drug addict. He didn't seem to mind, or at least he would put on a good front. He said the guys use to give him money sometimes take him to the clubs to hangout, as he could easily pass for eighteen. He had a younger sister and a brother he kinda watched out for, though it was hard for him to do. They use to play tag and hide and go seek a lot. Chuck loved the electric guitar and playing the bongos.
We use to have a lot of fun together back in those days, Chuck had a great and playful personality. He use to tease me a lot I guess he knew I had a crush on him from the first moment I looked into his baby blue eyes. Well, one day he was sitting on the landing upstairs, head in his hands, claw marks down his neck and his face and his chest. He and his mother had gotten into a fight, he argued with her but wouldn't hit her back. I sat down beside him as he talked about running away, or better yet he told me the different ways he could commit suicide.
We talked on those stairs for the longest time. He talked to me as I listened, and he touched the deepest part of my young heart. Together we embraced with tears running down our faces. Then I said something silly and he laughed. It was so good to hear his sweet laughter. We became so close after that incident, best friends I am sure.
Then one day my sister was driving me home and we saw Chuck walking down the Boulevard. He flagged us down and we picked him up, took him home to meet my mom for the very first time. She liked him right away, we turned on the stereo as we all danced to the music, even my mom. Then it got later and he had to get home. I called a friend who drove him to his place. He called me the next day, early in the morning to say he had a bus ticket to New York and he was leaving within the hour. I wanted so much to say I love you Charles Edward Saawdy, please don't go, please stay for me. But I was too shy. I received a letter about a week later. He said he made it to New York and it was a fabulous place, he was staying in Grenich Village and it was a wild time. He ended the letter with "I'll meet you again someday, so don't worry about me." Love Chuck
Well, two years went by and I got a phone call and I guess it was all over the news. A young man went and talked to a priest that day, then he walked on his way downtown near the riverbank, climbed the High-Level-Bridge in my hometown of Toledo, Ohio and jumped off to his death, he was nineteen years old. I felt my stomach cave in as I fell to my knees and I cried.
MySpace
Facebook
Friendster
Orkut
Hi5
Wordsy
Add to Library
Bookmark Story
Email to Friends
Link 
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
