Ed and Eddie

For some reason, two very different guys named "Ed" from my past have been at the forefront of what passes for my brain, lately.

Ed was a fellow student in Jr. High. He was the textbook definition of the term "nerd". Goofy clothes, heavy rimmed glasses and squeaky voice. The most unpardonable sin of all - Ed was a bit overweight. He had a funny build - his upper body was round, but his legs were slender. He looked as if you'd taken a fork, broken two tines off and used the fork to spear a meatball. In fact, that was what we nicknamed him: "Meatball".

In the brutally cruel way that teens have, we tormented him endlessly. Most probably in an effort to cover our own perceived weaknesses, we descended on him like wolves on a wounded deer. The capper came the day I beat him up. Sounds cold on the face of it, but it was really a huge misunderstanding. Our gym teacher - who viewed himself as "the football coach" - was late for class (as always). A gym full of unsupervised teens is a disaster waiting to happen. I strolled into class a bit late myself and started to climb up to the top row of bleachers. (They were folded, with only the bottom row pulled out). Next thing I know, Ed has ahold of my leg and is pulling me off the bleachers. I came down and he was just sort of clawing and swinging at me, so I popped him - a solid, overhand right, right under the eye. He kept swinging and clawing at me, so I hit him several more times. By then the gym teacher had deigned to show up and I got hauled off to the office. There sat Ed, with a pretty nice mouse under his eye, 'bout half the size of a golf ball. I got whacked with a paddle (this was before the vice principal had to live in fear of lawsuits) and sent back to class. Shortly after that, Ed disappeared. Rumour mill had it that his parents had transferred him to another school district. It wasn't until after all was said and done that I found out someone had spit on him that day, and he'd thought it was me. Hell, I'd have wanted to open a can of whoop-ass on anyone who'd done that to me, too!

From time to time, I think about Ed and wonder what happened to him. From the long perspective, I am now very ashamed of how we treated him and all I can do is hope he's happy and whole now. Ed, wherever you are now, I'm sorry man, I didn't know what we were doing to you.

Eddie, on the other hand, was a buddy of mine. He'd had polio when he was little, so the muscles on the left side of his body were pretty well wasted. (Why any child, born in 1961, long after the advent of the polio vaccine, had to go through that, I often wonder. His parents should probably be boiled in oil ). He had a very unique gait - unmistakable for blocks away.

Eddie was a bit of a character. He was a music nut, so I suppose that's how he and I found each other. I have so many memories of him, and every one brings a smile to my face, because they all involve laughter. Funny, one that I had totally forgotten about, snapped back into focus the other day. Eddie was an Alice Cooper fan, way back in the late '70s. One night, a bunch of us were out in my friend's car, partying. Eddie asked my now ex-wife, who I'd just started dating, for her mascara to do the Alice Cooper makeup to match his long brown wig (Don't ask). Long story short, a cop appeared at the driver's side window and started asking the driver a whole bunch of questions. The cop asked us all to get out of the car and line up on the curb. Eddie was the last one out, and when he stepped out, with the wig and the mascara around his eyes and mouth, the look on the cop's face was just priceless! (The cop ended up confiscating our bottle and cutting us loose).

Eddie also had a bad habit of falling down when he was drunk. It got to be a joke. One time, he and I left a party to go listen to a tape in my car. As we were walking back to the party, I told him to be careful of the icy sidewalk, since he'd been drinking. He insisted he was fine. He got all the way back to the house where the party was, put his hand on the stair rail, when -ZIP! CRASH!- on his back he went! He lay there laughing "Man, you know me like a book!" was all he could get out.

Funny thing was, later on in Eddie's life, he used to make a killing in bars, arm wrestling for money. People would make the mistake that they could make some easy money wrestling the gimp...... SURPRISE, SUCKERS! Since he did everything with his right arm, he was strong as HELL on that side! That was always deeply gratifiying to watch!

Eddie died young, a couple of years ago, and, while it was sort of a sad thing, part of me is glad he's free of that cursed body. Eddie, man, wherever you are, I raise a beer for ya'!