Crushed.
I just got a shock.
I was flipping through the Facebook home page, checking statuses of people.
One of my old friends from Houghton (my freshman year of college) posted a status that confused me.
"There's not a song playing that doesn't take me back to missing him."
I had a sinking feeling right then and there. I went to his profile and had my fear confirmed.
A week ago, he lost his best friend.
I knew him. I knew them both during the first year at Houghton, my Christian college in upstate NY.
Ross Clark.
Oh Lord, I stopped saying that name out loud years ago.
I suppose he was my first college crush. And I do mean crush.
He was cute. Blond, blue-eyed audacity.
This is a man who would introduce himself as he entered a room, either through a mere announcement or a crescendo of notes resembling an air raid siren. A melodic air raid siren, mind you, but a projected blast nonetheless.
You know, one morning him and his roommate Jon showed up for breakfast in the dining hall wearing their bathrobes. Pajamas and bathrobes, that was it.
Just coming out of 12 years in all-girls Catholic school, clearly I was not prepared for the culture shock that was college boys.
Yes, he was that brand of crazy that everyone wants to be around in college. You knew that where he was, fun would follow.
And a voice. Oh, the voice that he had.
Boy, if nothing else, Ross' voice made you fall in love with him. And he sang ALL the time.
I thought about him in ways a good Christian girl should not. Eh, I'm old and married now. I can say that.
I asked him out to the Homecoming dinner that year. He stood me up.
Or maybe he just didn't think I was serious when I asked him. So when I looked behind me in line and found him arm in arm with another girl, I finally understood the meaning of the word "crush."
Anyway, as time went on, we got back to being friends.
We hung out through friends that whole year. And the whole campus quickly learned that you couldn't say "Ross" without saying "Jon" in the same breath. They were inseparable. And apparently have been exactly that for the past 15 years.
Jon's married now with two kids and he's still the skinniest dude I've ever met. And I'll bet you his kids will grow up hearing stories all about the crazy things he and Uncle Ross used to do. I was only there for the first chapter of their story. Lord only knows what insanity ensued on that campus after I was gone. But the school is still standing, so it can't be all bad.
I have not seen or spoken to Ross in all these following years.
For the life of me, I can't think of why right now.
I had a couple of reasons that sounded reasonable before, mostly revolving around awkwardness.
Now, all of those reasons sound like garbage.
Saying Hi wouldn't have killed me.
Now, I have to settle for saying goodbye... a little too late.
Human pride is stupid.
I think we all know it. It just... sometimes it just bears repeating.
Well, on the upshot, the choir of angels now have one heck of a tenor.
I was flipping through the Facebook home page, checking statuses of people.
One of my old friends from Houghton (my freshman year of college) posted a status that confused me.
"There's not a song playing that doesn't take me back to missing him."
I had a sinking feeling right then and there. I went to his profile and had my fear confirmed.
A week ago, he lost his best friend.
I knew him. I knew them both during the first year at Houghton, my Christian college in upstate NY.
Ross Clark.
Oh Lord, I stopped saying that name out loud years ago.
I suppose he was my first college crush. And I do mean crush.
He was cute. Blond, blue-eyed audacity.
This is a man who would introduce himself as he entered a room, either through a mere announcement or a crescendo of notes resembling an air raid siren. A melodic air raid siren, mind you, but a projected blast nonetheless.
You know, one morning him and his roommate Jon showed up for breakfast in the dining hall wearing their bathrobes. Pajamas and bathrobes, that was it.
Just coming out of 12 years in all-girls Catholic school, clearly I was not prepared for the culture shock that was college boys.
Yes, he was that brand of crazy that everyone wants to be around in college. You knew that where he was, fun would follow.
And a voice. Oh, the voice that he had.
Boy, if nothing else, Ross' voice made you fall in love with him. And he sang ALL the time.
I thought about him in ways a good Christian girl should not. Eh, I'm old and married now. I can say that.
I asked him out to the Homecoming dinner that year. He stood me up.
Or maybe he just didn't think I was serious when I asked him. So when I looked behind me in line and found him arm in arm with another girl, I finally understood the meaning of the word "crush."
Anyway, as time went on, we got back to being friends.
We hung out through friends that whole year. And the whole campus quickly learned that you couldn't say "Ross" without saying "Jon" in the same breath. They were inseparable. And apparently have been exactly that for the past 15 years.
Jon's married now with two kids and he's still the skinniest dude I've ever met. And I'll bet you his kids will grow up hearing stories all about the crazy things he and Uncle Ross used to do. I was only there for the first chapter of their story. Lord only knows what insanity ensued on that campus after I was gone. But the school is still standing, so it can't be all bad.
I have not seen or spoken to Ross in all these following years.
For the life of me, I can't think of why right now.
I had a couple of reasons that sounded reasonable before, mostly revolving around awkwardness.
Now, all of those reasons sound like garbage.
Saying Hi wouldn't have killed me.
Now, I have to settle for saying goodbye... a little too late.
Human pride is stupid.
I think we all know it. It just... sometimes it just bears repeating.
Well, on the upshot, the choir of angels now have one heck of a tenor.