Matt

Matt

Moved to my hometown in the fourth grade.

Introduced my class to a new form of dodge ball.

Used to mock everything and everyone, in the way all junior high school boys do. I loved it.

Got into a rock-throwing contest with me after one catechism class. I hit a neighbor's car. He scampered home.

Went skiing with me for the first time at King Ridge mountain. We fell every ten yards, got our jeans soaking wet with snow, and laughed our asses off the entire time.

Was there when I put my face into a tree stump at Gunstock in '86.

Liked to shoot off M80s in neighbor's yards.

Was a healthy bad influence on me.

Induced a laughing fit in me just by hearing him laugh, to the point where I'd get light-headed.

Played football on my high school team.

Used to get the class fool in trouble by convincing him to do stupid things.

Loved Pink Floyd, the B-52s, and Echo & the Bunnymen.

And Eddie Murphy and Steve Martin.

Got confirmed with me.

Found the word "confirmandi" (plural of those who are being confirmed) fucking hilarious.

May have invented the acronym N.E.R.T.S. (Nipples Erect Right Through Shirt), which we applied to junior high school girls with noticeably new boobies.

Built a mountain of Coors Light cans at one infamous New Year's Eve party at my parents' house. And promptly knocked it down.

Drove me to school dances, Friday nights out, and to my friend Anne's funeral in his old Honda.

Kicked my ass in Atari Warlords.

And in Rocky on Colecovision.

Wrote the most hilarious and perverted doodles in high school math class, which he always shared with me.

Had lots of freckles.

Never stabbed me in the back.

Take that back. In the fifth grade, the asshole announced to the class that I had a crush on Celeste, after I told him not to, and I cried like a baby with my head on my desk in front of everyone. The memory still makes me cringe. Asshole!

Was always himself, for better or worse.

Was my best friend for awhile.

Visited my father down at the beach when my parents separated.

Saw me off to college in August 1986.

Wrote me postcards and letters during my miserable first semester.

Joined the Army.

Was diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.

Wouldn't take any medication for them.

Got discharged by the Army.

Disappeared out west for a long time.

Got arrested for vagrancy and spent time in jail.

Received the long letter I sent him and the accompanying doodles I reprised from our old math class.

Moved back to New England.

Seemed to be on the right track.

Had dinner with me and his brother a few years ago.

Wasn't the same.

Dropped out of life again.

Celebrated his 41st birthday on July 6th.

Was crossing a dark road in Augusta, Maine the following night.

Was hit by an S.U.V. driven by a 21 year-old camp counselor who didn't see him.

Died.

Is having a funeral on Saturday.