Bubbles Always Pop, pg. 11.
The only story I could remember which was so memorable consisted of a conversation with Ed during our own get-together with two others who were coming over regularly at the time. We were sitting around a desk and playing a game of Scrabble. As was usually the case, one of the four would leave around nine p.m., while Ed and Jon (the fellow who joined us last) would hang out for another hour or so. We're sitting, concentrating on our current arrangement of letters and passing around unrelated chit-chat, when suddenly Ed says, "Have you guys ever wondered what it would be like to wear women's underwear?" I looked up at Jon who had simultaneously lifted his gaze towards me, and then we both turned towards Ed and said in unison, "NO!!."
Unfazed, a wily grin beginning to spread upon his face, Ed continued, "I've always wondered what it would be like. I'd like to have some purple ones with ruffles." Jon and I could hardly contain our laughter.
Classic Ed. He had managed to interject humor into the semi-serious pursuit of winning. I got to the point where I was never quite sure what Ed was going to say next. One minute he would be adding his thoughts to whatever subject of conversation was being discussed, and the WHAM!, he was going somewhere out loud few others would dare to venture privately. There were even times when I often wondered if he wasn't being serious when he would make some comment such as the idea of wearing female undergarments. I could have probably spoken about Ed at length that day had it not been for the intimidation of public speaking or the subtle remains of anger towards him for choosing the manner in which he left.
A few days after Ed's passing, I found out something about Ed which he had never mentioned. Ed was manic/depressive. Upon hearing this single bit of information, everything just seemed to fall into place, leaving the oft most question answered. Initially, I wondered if he hadn't mistakenly chosen to do without the prescribed treatment given his desparate financial needs. Having had quite some time to reflect on his life and subsequent passing, I'm not sure it would have mattered. Ed was determined to live his life on his own terms, perhaps ultimately thinking there was no acceptable compromise to his desired lifestyle. It was all or nothing.
I still think about Ed periodically especially in the mid summer months. This will be the first year I won't be sharing a pipe with him in his memory. You see, that weed I got from him was the last dope I ever bought, and although I had managed to save it all these years, lighting up a little of it each year on the anniversary of his passing, it has finally lost its potency. Besides, there is only enough to share one more time. I figure if there ever comes a point in my own life where my ghosts get the best of me, I'll have something to take with me to share with a friend on the other side. In the meantime, its stashed away, hidden in a secret place where someday it may be even forgotten. Hopefully, my memories of Ed will never suffer such a fate. |
