As 2016 draws to a close, I'm thinking of two friends this year. One lost. Another found. Both have had a profound influence on my life and I'd like to write a few words about them.
In January, I lost my friend, Deven. He was tragically killed in a homeless shelter in Harlem. His murder made the cover of the New York Post.
In June, I found my childhood friend, Bob. He has lived pretty much off-the-grid as a homeless individual for more than 40 years.
I looked up to both Deven and Bob when I was much younger, and there will always be a special place in my heart for each of them.
Bob
Bob lived next door to me when I was a kid. His family moved in around the time I was 5 or 6. When I was in first grade, Bob was in sixth. I didn't realize it at the time, but Bob was a couple years older than the other sixth graders. My mother now tells me he always seemed a little slow, compared to other kids his age and perhaps that's why he related to me. Bob had an intense interest in music and all things space related, but especially the Monkees and Lost in Space. Since Bob liked those things, I did too. There was a stone boundary divider that ran along the back of my house, and behind Bob's house as well, however some of the boulders had been moved to allow Bob's house to be moved next to mine. The stone formation created a little bit of a pit which we pretended to be the Jupiter 2, the spaceship in Lost in Space. I seem to remember using some old junk we found to create a gyroscope which was supposed to guide us to Alpha Centauri. Bob always played John Robinson, and I was Don West. Other kids would also join in, and play other characters. Those not in our favor were assigned Dr. Zachary Smith. It was how kids entertained themselves in the 1960's. In addition to his interest in Lost in Space, Bob was keenly tuned into NASA's Apollo program, and we watched all the space shots with great interest. He knew the names of all the astronauts.
As I said, Bob was a big Monkees fan. He had an affinity for Michael Nesmith, and Peter Tork was my favorite. When we weren't playing Lost in Space or watching the moon missions, we'd pretend we were the Monkees. Bob had a used electric guitar, and I had a small Magnus organ. We couldn't play either of them, but we'd listen to our Monkees records and jam along, much to the annoyance anyone within earshot.
I moved away from that neighborhood when I was ten, but stayed in touch with one of Bob's younger brothers, who was closer to my age. I knew that Bob never finished school, and was living practically homeless after apparent bouts with mental illness and substance abuse. His family did what they could, but there are limits to what can be done, and they lost touch with him. From what I could tell, Bob seemed content in his world, and I always recognized he had a heart of gold.
Deven
I was a freshman in high school when I first came in contact with Deven. He was the news director of a local radio station I listened to, and had a call-in show that aired mornings from 10 until noon. At the time, my high school was so crowded, we had double sessions, so freshmen and sophomores didn't start school until noon, an we'd go until 5pm. Because of this, I was able to listen to Deven's talk show, and became a regular caller. Deven never discouraged me, and later joked he was happy I would call because sometimes I was the only one who did. I learned that Deven was an incredibly intelligent individual who left school when he was 16, not because it was too hard, but because it was too easy for him. There was no challenge, so he set out to learn things on his own. He campaigned for Eugene McCarthy in 1968, and worked as a reporter in Albany covering then Governor (and later VP) Nelson Rockefeller. At the time Deven was hosting his talk show, he was only 22, but sounded far more experienced for his age.
My own interest in radio was intensifying. My friends heard my calls to the talk show, and told me I should consider a career in broadcasting, something I followed up on. Deven was my role-model, and I charted my career path similar to his. While I stayed in high school, and went off to college (finishing it in 3 years instead of 4) I too became a statehouse reporter at a very young age.
I lost touch with Deven after he left the station where he had the talk show. This was pre-Internet, so I had no idea where he went, although I had heard he had moved back to his hometown of New York City.
Fast forward about 30 years, when Googling someone became a pastime of sorts. I found an email address for him and reached out. He quickly answered back that he was the same individual I used to call on his talk show. We were in touch quite a bit via social media, and I even caught up with him for dinner not far from his home in New York about six years ago. Deven had reinvented himself a couple of times. After getting out of radio and journalism, he ran a very popular pub in NYC. After that, he went back to school, and became a teacher, and blogged extensively about his experiences. When the classroom didn't work out, he became a school librarian, and totally embraced the challenge, bringing an antiquated middle school library into a state-of-the art, high tech resource center. As all this was taking place, however something was going on inside Deven's head. I'm told he suffered from Frontotemporal Dementia. It's a slow moving brain disease that causes the patient to do uncharacteristic things. Due to this, Deven lost his job, and got himself into some serious legal trouble. The wheels pretty much came off his life, and in January, he found his way to the Harlem Shelter, where a young man with another severe mental illness inexplicably attacked him with a knife, and killed him.
A few months after attending Deven's funeral, I was driving to work, and spotted my friend Bob walking along the sidewalk. He is hunched over, with long bushy hair and and a matted, scraggly beard. Surprisingly, for his age, he has very few gray hairs. I had been made aware by a mutual friend he was still living in the area, working odd jobs trying to get some pocket change. I had been on the lookout for him, and was very happy to see him. I turned my car around, and pulled up alongside him and called out his name, and identified myself. I parked, and we spoke by the side of the road for about 20 minutes. I gave him a ride to a few homes where he was hoping to cut lawns, but no one was home, before taking him to a place where he helps out loading furniture for the needy onto trucks. It was so nice to catch up on the old days, and of our childhoods. We even talked about Lost in Space and he had some great observations about Dr. Smith's character arc. I've seen him a few times since, and had a small hand in helping four of his six siblings reunite with him. He still lives his life his own way, but I think now he realizes his family loves him, and his friends still hold him dear.
So there are a few things I hope people take away from my musings. Value friendships. There may be long lapses in them, but be willing to pick up where you left off. Sometimes, you can go back. Know that mental illness is a terrible thing, and is not the fault of the individual who is suffering from it. Be a friend, and if you can, offer some sort normalcy. If you see someone who is homeless, know that they were probably someone's childhood friend.
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