TRAVELS WITH CHARLIE

Charlie is not an ordinary fellow. My best recollection is our first meeting in 1962 at what was called “Omaha University.” Like myself, he spent the fall semester at a private college and then transferred to “O.U.”

We met off campus at a party and thus began a 4-decade conversation. My travels with Charlie started with the usual pleasantries, but developed into a lifetime dialogue. A few years after we met, Charlie some how wrapped his Austin-Healy around a tree.After the accident, we were talking on the phone and I was trying to communicate above the mayhem and noise from the Dundee Dell bar. I discovered that he was deeply shaken and happy to be free of death and dismemberment.

In the late 60’s, Jennifer and I would visit Jane and Charlie at their home to watch the David Suskind show (an antecedent to contemporary talk shows.)

As time went on, the phone calls became less frequent, but we did spend an afternoon betting on the horses at Aksarben. From there, came the long march to the end of the 70’s when I introduce him to Bill Wakefield. The six of us (including mates) sat in Jane and Charlie’s massive home. There was also the short conversation after his father died.

Some time back, there were 2 meetings at his house on Poppleton. There we talked and ate at a Greek restaurant. The other time we went to the Amanas and I had the wonderful opportunity to meet Deb.

As long distance calls became inexpensive, minutes began to translate into hours.  From our interactions, I discovered that Charlie had traveled the world. He knows his world history and geography, liberal arts, and social sciences. He stumbles a bit with statistics and physical science, but partakes of his knowledge largess in a very humble fashion.

And he sure knows trivia. Did you know that indigenous trees can only grow to 80 feet in the Plains, and that kudzu is slowly choking the Florida everglades? Do you know the correct pronunciation of every word? Charlie knows.

Our biggest find was the discovery that we both dwelled near each other in the late 40’s.

My grandma’s house was just across the alley from his parents. We both recall the nights, a train would rumble through the neighborhood and we could hear the whistle in the distance.

As Charlie turns 60, I recall the conversations all through the decades. By the time that we finish a long, long, long distance call, I am exhausted. Of course we have talked in the both the highs and lows of life. Even talked to him after surgery. Although he was seeing floating Buddhas in a parallel universe, he still made sense.

And so it goes. And, that’s the problem. Time passages have beginnings and…endings. Hopefully, our talks could last a lifetime. Although our days our numbered, hope springs eternal.

Charlie died about five years ago.