Reminiscences with an old friend

 

Al Premo

Where to begin?

Spending a good number of evenings at the Iron Horse Grill since they opened here on Main Street, I'm happy/sad to say that on too many nights, the only people I know in a bar full of patrons are the bartender and waitresses.  Happy because it's an indication of how successful this place is, but sad that I've reached a time in my life where my friends and acquaintances are fading away.

It's here, in my doddering years, that on a dozen or less occasions I have been fortunate to become reacquainted with a classmate from our high school years; Al Premo.  Al has a home in Ogdensburg and, also, a place on the river here in Morristown.  When in Morristown, and it's his night to cook, he stops into the Iron Hore Grill to purchase pizza to go.  Most times he'll order a beer, which he rarely if ever finishes, while waiting for his pizza.  I don't think he ever orders ahead.  Last night Al arrived shortly after me and we shook hands and said our; good to see you agains.  He ordered a veggie pizza with extra veggies but no beer, took a seat on the bar stool next to me and, as always, we chatted along easily with no pregnant pauses.

Al was a year behind me in school and we didn't hang in the same social clicks.  We had something stronger; we were both athletes, playing first baseball together for 8 or 9 years and second, we played football together.  So, as you might imagine, we have endless reminiscences to exchange.

Last night started out differently.  Al says, "I've got a bat in my house. I've tried everything to knock him down, but without success. In fact, I almost fell through a window while trying to bat the bat with a broom." After many unsuccessful attempts with various 'weapons' he said he felt like he been through a vigorous workout and was sweating profusely."  Mind you now, Al was an accomplished athlete in his youth and had a long career as a physical education teacher.  I asked him if he'd tried a tennis racket to which he replied, "I bought a cheap one today at Walmart."  I then shared with him a method that my wife discovered back when we had an infestation of bats in our home.  Bats don't want to be in your house any more than you want them to be. They want to be outside eating and ridding the neighborhood of bugs, particularly, mosquitoes.  Shut off all the lights in your house.  Open a door to the outside, and scratch with your fingernails, on the screen or door casing.  the bat will echo locate the sound and fly out the open door.  It works, we did it.  Al said he'd try it after supper.

The conversation turned to long time acquaintances.  Al says, "do you remember a guy named Bill Frazier?  He asked me to say hey the next time I saw you."

I grew-up with Billy Frazier and he was part of a cadre of neighborhood kids who played pick-up baseball in Grove Street Park in Ogdensburg all summer. Corky LaFlair, Donny Powers, Bobby Mills, the Garvey brothers; Dick and Bobby, Bernie Reese, and others who's names I've forgotten for the moment.

Talk about uncanny, just the day before I'd been revisiting my childhood memories and thought, I wonder what ever happened to Billy Frazier.  I even did an unsuccessful Facebook search.  Weird, ay?     Apparently, Billy is doing well, retired from a local utility company and living out on the Heuvelton Road.

The conversation then turned somber.  The reason I'd been reflecting on that "old gang of mine" was the fact that my childhood constant chum, Donny Powers died last week.  I asked Al if he knew that, and he said he did.  We then went on to list all of our former classmates who have gone onto their rewards.  Al knew so many because he'd recently attended his 60th class reunion and the organizers had made a list of those who'd passed on.  I was surprised at a few that I was unaware of.

The grim reminder that we are on the last lap in our life marathon.  Every week there are fewer and fewer of us.