Trauzeuge

I guess I am doing a series of these and dedicate them to my friends. I am not entirely sure how interesting this is to the general population who reads these things, but I like talking about the things going on in my life. I have a relatively small group of very close friends. These people are so close they are like family and not just friends. One in particular is a guy I have known a long time. While other friends and people I have known have drifted out of touch this one guy has been there for me time and again and has been doing so since I was in high school. That’s my friend Tim.

I hardly know where to being when I talk about Tim. I knew of him back when I was in grade school. In truth, I knew him through his mother. You see, Tim had either the great fortune or great misfortune of having his mother being a substitute teacher at the grade school we both went to. I am quite certain he underwent a lot of teasing because of things his mother did in that capacity. So, I knew of him because I was familiar with his mother, but I didn’t really get a chance to meet him until high school.

Tim and I took the same bus to school. We rode public transportation. We rode the number 68 bus to high school. We grew up close to each other and would meet at the same bus stop every morning for years. It was at that time that we formed the now legendary “Blue Denim Gang.”

Yeah, sure, it sounds corny. I know it sounds corny. It all happened by accident. I was standing at the bus stop and so was Tim and our friend named Wolfgang (yes, Wolfgang). At that time the trend of people wearing those Levi denim jackets was very much back in style. All three of us were wearing them. I don’t know exactly the conversation but it went something like this.

ME: Look at us, we’re all wearing the same jacket and colors.

WOLFGANG: Yeah, it’s like we’re all part of the same gang.

TIM: The Blue Denim Gang.

Tim’s like that. If he can throw in a twenty-five cent word to describe something and use it for humorous effect, he will and he does. See, with just one sentence we weren’t just wearing “jean jackets.” Now we were members of the “Blue Denim Gang.” Heck, I liked the name so much I wrote a novel based around it.

Tim got me my first, and greatest, job. He and I reminisce about that job a lot these days as we get older and more and more disillusioned by the rat race and the rats who make us race it. As middle age approaches we look back to those days working for our high school and with the school’s Registrar as the Assistant to the Registrar.

Tim is very smart. However, he is not the kind of smart that is annoying. Sure, you know people like that. I’m sure you’ve met them. These people are frighteningly smart and yet they have an arrogance about them. Tim does not have this. However, he was smart enough to be valedictorian of his eighth grade and high school classes.

Tim has a great sense of humor. I can’t begin to tell you how great his sense of humor is. He has a great way of making fun of people. He has a great way of manipulating words and sentences to make things funny. Here are some sentences that, to the two of us, are likely to bring about gales of laughter but to the rest of you will leave you scratching your head:

“Bryan, I can’t find the calculator. For once you will have to do basic math.”

“Ya-mo-be-there.”

“I hair ya.”

For years Tim had the most abhorrent luck with girlfriends. Thankfully that streak ended when he met the woman who would become his wife when he was in college. Elizabeth is a great match for Tim. She is smart as well and they seem to mesh perfectly. They have had children and they are great kids and I have often told Tim and his wife that I am destined to be a great uncle when my brother decides to have kids because I practice with his.

Tim has this humorous ability to completely and consistently mis-identify any and all celebrities. Many has been the time we will be watching a movie or television show and he will look at someone and shout out the name of a celebrity and it won’t even be close.

“Isn’t that Ted Danson?” He’ll ask pointing to a guy who looks nothing like Ted Danson.

“No,” I’ll reply and shake my head.

On the other hand he can probably tell you what the number one chart-topping song was for the summer of 1989 in a heartbeat. He could probably also tell you the group’s other hits and what albums they came from. He can probably also tell you the record label that it was recorded for.

Tim has been, without a doubt, one of the greatest friends I have ever had. Time and again and again and again and AGAIN he has been there for me. When I lost a job he was there to re-write my resume. Whenever I had a problem he was there to listen. The sheer number of hours he has listened to me bitch and whine and piss and moan and then listen to my billions upon billions of half-thought-out and hair-brained schemes makes him worthy of some kind of medal. I am quite certain there were times when he must have wanted to throttle me or shake my by the shoulders and ask me what I was doing and he never raised his voice and never argued with me. In fact he has, again, time and again, given up room in his house and allowed me to stay at his house when I needed to.

I cannot think of a time when Tim and I have actually argued, seriously, about anything. Sure, I am betting there are times we disagreed about things, but an actual argument? I can’t think of one. How many of your friends can you say that about?

I know I am leaving stuff out. I am betting I could fill volumes with the things Tim and I did in our wilder days. We never burned anything down or tipped over any cows but there were a few reflectors from a far-northern suburb that went missing one night that we might have to answer for some day. Maybe some day I will fill those volumes. “Times with Tim” will be the title or something. It will be one of those little books people talk about lovingly and hardly anyone ever really reads.

The movie version can star Ted Danson.

Bryan W. Alaspa’s latest novel Dust is now available at his website www.bryanalaspa.com and www.amazon.com.