Peace be with you Frank.

 My mother called tonight to let me know that a family friend had, well, committed suicide.He was a childhood friend of me and my brother. Our dad and his dad worked together and were good friends and  our mom and his mom became close as well what with all the barbecues and get togethers in the 70's, the early days of the mod era all the way to the whole disco scene- those days for those who remember. With the sad news, at a time like this I learned that it feels good for everyone to remember the funny episodes precious memories offer. Good memories are like a gift of  friendship that never fail in their loyal duty to comfort those who feel or endure a loss. This journal passage is an ode to a childhood friend.  In the 70's, my family would frequently spend time with their family and it was consistantly fruitfully eventvul. Im not a big fan of cliches', but the common phrase "never a dull moment" would most certainly apply. Frank and my bro hung out in his cool "boy" room and me and Michelle (his sis) played in her cool "girls" room. Cool toys and bikes, food for everybody and shitloads of beer for the grownups. There would usually be alot of yelling and cursin from some married couple there as they momentarily fought over--who knows--how to glaze the food on the grill or whose blame it was that the shit burnt up! My mother was never a drinker she was the peaceful and pretty "here we go again" eye-roller. My dad was the negotiator and had a keen wisdom for it, beer buzzed or not. And the rest of em were just funny for all the kids to sneek down the hall and watch. Yep, good times, good times. Only went camping once, but it was one for the books. I cherish it, know my bro does too. Early morning two carloads of us headed out to Mobile, Alabama for what I think was a week or so at a campground. One camper for the adults and one big tent for the kids. COOOOL!! I remember thinking we kids had it pretty good as we passed some kids at the bustop heading to there first day of school that obviously started a week ahead. The whole ride there I NEVER seemed to get tired of my favorite song at the time, no matter how much they played it on the radio. And they played it.And played it An observant person could have probably set their watch to the practically hourly airplay of Elton John w/ Kiki Dee. A paranoid person could have suspected the repetitious loyalty to the song as some kind of governmental shady operation of mind control via subliminal messages craftily hidden beneath those friggin bubblegum lyrics of delight----                               """dont go breakin my heart                                  I couldnt if I tried                                  oh honey if I get restless                                  baby youre not that kind""" I remember the song well. I remember the campground. I remember winning a bike race against Michelle, but it was a circular path and I had inner position which gave me the edge but I never fessed up or acknowledged that...... But the best one was the night it rained. Diggin the sound of the rain on our tent was me, my brother, Michelle and Frank. The four shitasses. My bro was always the introverted type which allowed him to observe things that ol loudmouth Frank would be too busy talking dumb shit to notice. (God rest his soul). Turned out that the tent would leak wherever the cots were touching it.We were fascinated by this discovery and of course, had to investigate further. We touched another freestanding spot....DRIP! Whoah!! Far out!  Then yet Another spot touched by one of the four easily amused and wide-eyed circus monkeys..... DRIP DRIP!! Yep, there was a pattern here. So of course Frank, in all his senseless glory, jumps up like a malfuctioning wind up toy and decides to forcefully touch every square inch of the tent that USED to shield us from this invasion of falling water. Picture the movie "Oh God" when George Burns had to convince John Denver that he was God by making it rain INSIDE the car they were riding in. Then picture a tent instead and occupy it with four chimps who just figured out how to unlock the liquor cabinet and you will have been on the vacation with us. Party was over when the grown ups got wind of the spectacle that was us as we dripped wet without the sense to realize sooner or later we'd have to sleep in this bucket of sky-piss. Dont quite remember how many names we were all "affectionately" called as we were all  marched into the cramped but dry quarters of the camper. But no doubt with my dads and Mr.Henry's unique New Orleans flavor I wish I could recall cuz it had to be some pretty funny shit in retrospect. The night wore on. The new sleeping arrangements were assigned and all drifted to sleep. Ahh, silence. Only the tranquil sounds of crickets, frogs, the night air and the gently falling rain. Oh but that would soon change. There was a bear in those woods and his name was Mr. Henry. You see, all was well in campland and sleeping in the camper was fine except for one  small problem and overlooked flaw. You see, the small problem was that Mr. Henry was sleeping on a bottom "bunk" and his son Frank was dozing on the top..............the overlooked flaw in this arrangement was that Mr. Henry was sleepin on the bottom bunk and Frank was---well--a big time bedwetter. Needless to say the bunk mattress was thin and more than willing to relinquish itself of the peepee puddle now hovering like a saggy and disgruntled diaper.... Oh the sounds of the forest. The sounds of the forest indeed. Crickets.... frogs.... gently falling rain.....  and a bear.  Wishin again I could remember the phrases of "expression" that no doubt ran the birds out of the trees as the 6 foot 5 off duty cop stomped out of the camper and FE FI FO'D his way into the night, cursing and wipin the still warm gift that his loving son had involuntarily sent him off of his FACE.   Alls I know is that for years my parents occasionly partook in some serious laughter over the night of the falling rain that became the night of the falling Frank-piss. Ahh, yes, good times-good times.  God Bless you Frank, you gave us memories and armed us with laughter. We, my family,love your family and will always remember our history together.  And to my DS friends, thank you for sharing in this memory with me and if anyone enjoyed this story join me in a salute to the man who made it all happen.                                                             Cherish memories, and never stop makin em.                                                                                                   Maria.