Of Dragons, Colors and Lao Tzu

Stephen is my friend. Perhaps the best friend I could ever have. Only my son is more important. (I have come to see Spouse as a positive extension of myself. What I am not, Spouse is, and so I am a better person for it.)

I have had lots of friends over the years. Well, maybe not lots. Okay. I haven't had many friends at all. But a lot of people have liked me. A few still do.

Right now I am listening to Friends, by Elton John. The song tugs at my heart. It always has. But since Stephen died it makes me cry.

"As friends together watch their childhood fly."

We did. It flew away from us, and we never enjoyed it as we should. We mucked it up. But that was what Stephen and I did. We mucked up. We were young, and foolish, and the things we wanted we knew we could not have. Certainly he never got his. I want mine, if only for the two of us.

Stephen was born an artist. A damn good one, too. But not everyone saw it so. He also spent a good portion of his life searching - like I did. I found what we were looking for first, but he wasn't too far behind. Only it did not solve all of his problems any more than it solved all of mine.

I remember when we were still in high school Stephen began reading Lao Tzu. He wanted to become a Taoist. In a way he did, but I don't think he ever gave himself completely to it. Stephen found himself in conflict between the Eastern Religion and the Western Goodies. He liked girls - even if they did intimidate him.

I remember when we were Seniors. It was our last spring in high school. Stephen had become the art teacher's favorite student. He was the most talented. Well, the art class was in charge of setting up the display cabinet just outside the school library. For the final display, the art teacher gave Stephen full charge. He could put whatever he wanted in it (providing it wasn't obscene).

Stephen was thrilled. He knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to mix his newfound religion with art and present it to the school. Now I loved Stephen, and I hated to bear bad news to him, but our relationship was such that I could. Stephen could say anything to me - and he often did. And vice versa. So, I told him: Nobody in this school (besides me) is going to understand what you are doing. He wouldn't listen to me, and rightfully so, now that I consider it. Stephen had courage - sometimes. He knew what he wanted to do, and he did it. Mostly alone. He had me help a little, but my artistic talent is such that Stephen seldom let me do much. This was his display:

He had spent weeks creating a dragon fountain. It wasn't too big, probably only standing two feet tall. It was mostly lime green with various red and yellow coloring enhancements. The bowl could hold perhaps two or three gallons of water. Well, the bowl did not fit in the case unless it was on its side, so the fountain did not run. Behind all of this was a poster. Using his best calligraphy, Stephen had written a Taoist saying from his book on Lao Tzu. It was a contest, and it was to run until the final week of school. The challenge? Define what Lao Tzu was trying to say (I'm sorry, but I forget the passage). The winner would get the fountain as a prize. Since Stephen had been indoctrinating me with his readings, I could not participate. I was like his family.

I remember helping him pack up the dragon, the bowl and the poster, along with all the other odds and ends he had put into the case, and riding with him as he drove home. He was so depressed. No one had submitted anything. Not even as a joke, although plenty did make fun of it. Knowing how close we were, lots of students came up to me wanting to know what was wrong with him. I defended him with all I had, but I didn't stop the talk.

Things like that bothered Stephen. They bothered me, too. When I built a house for Independent Study Class, everyone made fun of it - including Stephen. He watched me as I put it in my back yard, poured gasoline on it and set it on fire. I didn't let him destroy his dragon fountain, though. Two years later he still had it, sitting proudly on the kitchen counter.

After I was married we didn't see each other for a long time. Then, after fifteen years, I got a telephone call. Stephen had tracked me down. It was Christmas. He had married and now had a daughter a little older than my son. We got together again and for the next five years a lot of things began to return to normal. Then, something went wrong and he was in the hospital again. While there, he suffered a head injury. They rushed him to surgery. They were not able to keep him. His wife called me in the middle of the night. I didn't answer because it was the middle of the night. By chance I had taken the next day off to do something. I listened to the message while Spouse was at work. I fell on the floor. I called Spouse, who rushed home.

It doesn't always hurt so much now. I'm listening to Friends again. I'm not crying - but my eyes are wet. I miss you, Stephen.

I hope the day will be a lighter highway
for friends are found on every road.

Can you ever think of any better way
for the lost and weary travelers to go

Making friends for the world to see
You let the people know you got what you need

With a friend at hand you will see the light
If your friends are there then everything's all right

It seems to me a crime that we should age
These fragile times should never slip us by

A time you never can or shall erase
As friends together watch their childhood fly

Making friends for the world to see
You let the people know you got what you need

With a friend at hand you will see the light
If your friends are there then everything's all right

Making friends for the world to see
You let the people know you got what you need

With a friend at hand you will see the light
If your friends are there then everything's all right