Generous with His Smile
I wonder what made me think of Raymond last week.
Every so often a name from my past will slide across my mind for no discernible reason.
I’ll start to wonder, “whatever happened to…?” and then it’s off to Google to find out what this particular individual has been up to for the last few decades.
The latest search was for a kid named Raymond whom I went to high school with in 1971 and have not seen—or thought about--since.
Richard Nixon was president then. A gallon of gas cost 40 cents a gallon, a movie ticket went for a buck-fifty, and the average cost of a new house was $25,250.
I was 14 years old, a graduate of Our Lady of Angels Catholic School in Bay Ridge, and starting freshman year of high school.
There was no internet, of course, so you couldn’t Google someone’s history, and no smart phones to distract us, so I had to find other ways to avoid studying.
And we didn’t have to wear masks and gloves because Covid-19 wouldn’t show up in our lives for another 50 years.
Raymond was one of the kids in my first high school class. I remember that he was very small and he had a bit of a stammer
Honestly, I had very few specific memories of Raymond, but I can see him very clearly, even after all this time.
We weren’t particularly close, but there was a kind of camaraderie in the freshman class, a sort of “we’re all this together” feeling amongst the “freshies” who had come to this massive public school building in downtown Brooklyn along with 3,000 students.
It was scary as hell for me, coming a from small neighborhood school, and I’m sure a lot of the other kids felt the same way.
‘Ray was Your Guy’
The freshman class slowly came apart over four years, as we took different majors. We all graduated, went our separate ways, and I never saw Raymond—or anybody else from my old high school—ever again.
When I googled his name, I found out that Raymond died late last year.
I squinted at the photo that accompanied his obituary in an attempt to find the child I once knew.
He was barely visible, but I could just see the small kid with the stammer beneath all those years.
According to his obituary he was an architectural draftsman, and, “if you needed to find important records about a property, Ray was your guy.”
He was a lifelong resident of Brooklyn, an avid record collector, with a particular fondness for Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. He had no children.
I feel badly for his friends and family and I’m sorry for the kid that I used to know.
One of the online tributes said “he was generous with his smile,” which is one of the nicest things you could say about anybody in this world.
But why did I look him up in the first place? I’m not sure. His name just came into my head like a shooting star.
A few years I wrote about someone else from my past who had died, but I learned of her passing through an announcement on Facebook. That was a straightforward recollection.
The human mind is such a strange place, with thoughts and memories constantly crisscrossing the subconscious. Every so often, one of them will come up to the surface.
Raymond died too soon, and so if there is any lesson here, it’s the vital reminder that life is short and we have no idea how long we’ll be here, especially now that we’re in the grips of this pandemic.
Rest in peace Raymond. And thanks for being so generous with your smile.
Every so often a name from my past will slide across my mind for no discernible reason.
I’ll start to wonder, “whatever happened to…?” and then it’s off to Google to find out what this particular individual has been up to for the last few decades.
The latest search was for a kid named Raymond whom I went to high school with in 1971 and have not seen—or thought about--since.
Richard Nixon was president then. A gallon of gas cost 40 cents a gallon, a movie ticket went for a buck-fifty, and the average cost of a new house was $25,250.
I was 14 years old, a graduate of Our Lady of Angels Catholic School in Bay Ridge, and starting freshman year of high school.
There was no internet, of course, so you couldn’t Google someone’s history, and no smart phones to distract us, so I had to find other ways to avoid studying.
And we didn’t have to wear masks and gloves because Covid-19 wouldn’t show up in our lives for another 50 years.
Raymond was one of the kids in my first high school class. I remember that he was very small and he had a bit of a stammer
Honestly, I had very few specific memories of Raymond, but I can see him very clearly, even after all this time.
We weren’t particularly close, but there was a kind of camaraderie in the freshman class, a sort of “we’re all this together” feeling amongst the “freshies” who had come to this massive public school building in downtown Brooklyn along with 3,000 students.
It was scary as hell for me, coming a from small neighborhood school, and I’m sure a lot of the other kids felt the same way.
‘Ray was Your Guy’
The freshman class slowly came apart over four years, as we took different majors. We all graduated, went our separate ways, and I never saw Raymond—or anybody else from my old high school—ever again.
When I googled his name, I found out that Raymond died late last year.
I squinted at the photo that accompanied his obituary in an attempt to find the child I once knew.
He was barely visible, but I could just see the small kid with the stammer beneath all those years.
According to his obituary he was an architectural draftsman, and, “if you needed to find important records about a property, Ray was your guy.”
He was a lifelong resident of Brooklyn, an avid record collector, with a particular fondness for Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. He had no children.
I feel badly for his friends and family and I’m sorry for the kid that I used to know.
One of the online tributes said “he was generous with his smile,” which is one of the nicest things you could say about anybody in this world.
But why did I look him up in the first place? I’m not sure. His name just came into my head like a shooting star.
A few years I wrote about someone else from my past who had died, but I learned of her passing through an announcement on Facebook. That was a straightforward recollection.
The human mind is such a strange place, with thoughts and memories constantly crisscrossing the subconscious. Every so often, one of them will come up to the surface.
Raymond died too soon, and so if there is any lesson here, it’s the vital reminder that life is short and we have no idea how long we’ll be here, especially now that we’re in the grips of this pandemic.
Rest in peace Raymond. And thanks for being so generous with your smile.
Comments
So sorry to hear about Raymond's passing. He sounded like such a sweet guy. Isn't something how people come into our lives and make an impact?
And isn't strange how you will sometimes think of someone and then google their name, only to find their arbitrary? About a year and a half ago, I suddenly thought of my partner's father. Like you, I googled his name and there it was at the top of the page, his arbitrary. I was stunned. And what was really ironic was that he passed away the month before on the EXACT same day that I had googled him that night. I had chills. He was such a lovely man who was always so kind to me during the time his son and I were together.
Beautiful story, buddy! And thanks so much for sharing it.
Have a terrific week, and say hello and love to New York for me.
It sounds like Raymond went on to have a successful life and his smile hints at happiness. What more can we ask?
I hope you are staying well, Rob. XO
Thank you so much. Bijoux! Isn't it strange how the mind works, recalling things that have lain dormant for years?
I love how you described Raymond's life. And I think you're right--what more can we ask?
Take care and blessings on you and your loved ones!
@Ron,
Thanks so much! It's amazing how we were both searching for these people who have been out of our lives for so long.
I'm so sorry about your partner's dad. It's tough when you type in their name and the first thing you see is their obituary.
Take care, buddy, and New York says hello right back!
Wish Raymond happy by his side.
Much love!
Yes, the mind is strange and we've all experienced those random memories. And now having read your post, faces of various people are coming to my mind... and then disappearing as quickly.
Have a good day, Rob!