Bob Thomas Writes

My Friend George
By Bob Thomas

I have a friend named George. He’s been my friend for over 20 years, and will be until one of us decides to depart this life I suppose. The agreement we have is. . .regardless of which of us dies first, the other one gets his shoes! I suspect we both will stick to the agreement, just because. . . well, just because.

We’ve been each other’s best friend for so long because we have so much, and so very little in common! We agree on most things because we don’t speak of things we don’t agree on! It seems to make life easier if we never bring up things that are disagreeable to either of us. We have argued and stopped talking to each other. The worst time was for almost two weeks. In passing one of us said, “Sorry”. The other one said “Me Too”. And that was the end of it. Between friends it’s not necessary to explain. . . just to apologize.

We are both about the same age, been married twice, have Sons in their 30’s, are Vietnam era ex-military, I was in during Viet Nam and George served in Viet Nam as a Corpsman. We both married younger second wives, own our own businesses, and until a few years ago were drinking buddies. But, age, wisdom, health and other circumstances saw fit to stop that part of our lives. George no longer drinks at all, and I might have a beer or two a year! But, when we drank, WE DRANK! We spent many nights sitting on the deck solving the problems of the world. . . things like poverty, hunger, lousy government, wars, revolutions, the shortage of “really good looking” women, the way our wives drove us nuts as well as the way they tolerated us, were all laid to rest under the influence of an, eventually empty, bottle of Scotch Whiskey! One thing we do have in common is, we do anything and everything we do, to extreme! Whether it’s drinking, smoking, eating or sitting on the couch, punching the remote control, and being couch potato’s! We do it to the maximum!

When We were drinking, We planned for the future. . . (the future being sometime next week), but mostly we relived our pasts. We told war stories, and lies that sounded like war stories. We discussed all the women we had known, some women we wished we had known and the women we knew! We recalled with fondness the days of our youth. Of my growing up in North Carolina as compared to his growing up in Detroit, Michigan. I told of my ‘wild’ days of racing and partying in Charlotte, and visits to my Cousin’s farm in the summer. George told of his days climbing the fence at the car factories and joy riding in new cars, and visits to his Grandmother’s home in Kentucky.

In our discussions about our military time, I told of my deployments around the world. . . Texas, Oklahoma, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Alaska, Dominican Republic, Christmas Island, New Zealand, South Pole, Saigon, Bangkok and other short visits to exotic places. George talked about his time in the Navy as a Medic in Charleston, Great Lakes, Jacksonville. . . but, never about his duty in Viet Nam. And I never asked too much about it. I figured, if he wants to talk about it, he will.

We have shared our families lives, even the private moments, with each other. Because we trust the other to respect our privacy. We have also shared our sadness over life’s bumps in the road, and there have been many, because We are friends. We don’t always tell each other the truth either! We tell each other what we think the other one wants, or needs, to hear!

The difference between us is hard to describe. . . but, I’ll try. George is a humanitarian. He has spent his entire adult life caring for someone. As a Corpsman he cared for the sick and injured in the Navy and as a Combat Medic with the Marines. As a civilian his life has been dedicated to caring for the mentally, emotionally and physically ill or handicapped. He is genuinely concerned for the dis-enfranchised all over the world. The hungry, poor, homeless people who have no one else to care for them. He, of course, can’t help them all, so he started a business a number of years ago to care for as many as he can in group homes. His business is caring for children who have no one else who can do a good job of caring for them.
And, he’s very good at it.

About 10 years ago he adopted a daughter from Romania…. and few years later he adopted another daughter from Viet Nam. . . .I admire him for that. At the age of 30-something it would be a daunting task. At his age of 50-something it was an amazing thing to do.

Now, in his early 60’s, his enthusiasm and passion is all directed towards his girls. . . his two son’s have grown to be successful men, a Chef and an Attorney, and he’s proud of them, and proud of the way they were raised.
But he has something we all would like to have, a “do-over”. A chance to raise his children the way he wanted to the first time around. Without the worry of having to make a living, or paying the rent. He’s involved in their lives at every turn. He plays with them at every chance. And he spoils them beyond belief! As would you and I if given another chance. Where the 30-somethings crave a week long vacation away from the kids, George can’t stand to be away from his girls.

I, on the other hand, am not a humanitarian. I’m concerned for the folks whose lives are in turmoil, but not to the point of doing anything about it. For that I’m sorry. I drop a few dollars into various collection boxes, like most of us do. I give to “Jerry’s Kids” every September. I donate my old clothes to charity. And, if confronted on the street by the Salvation Army Bell ringers, I give them my change. After the floods in Eastern N.C. I raised money from friends and artists in my gallery and bought some necessary items and delivered them to the homeless. . . mostly because I was in the mist of the devastation and saw how bad it was on the families . . . some were my customers I’m sure. I even send a few dollars to Catholic Charities ever year. I’m not a Catholic, but George is, and I feel like it supports his efforts to help the world’s troubled people a little bit.

In the last few years George has been diagnosed with an illness that will eventually take his life. . . not anytime soon, but too soon, whenever it does. And I feel helpless. We’ve always had an unwritten ‘code’ between us. . . “if you need it, and I’ve got it, it’s yours”! Now, I feel like I’ve been called upon to help my friend and I can’t. I can’t cure him. I can’t give him more time on this earth to spend with his children, and I can’t go back and rewind our lives to the starting point. If I could, it probably wouldn’t change a thing. He’s not ill because of the way he lived his life. It wasn’t the drinking or smoking for years that caused his problem. It was just living long enough to ‘be the one’ who got sick. Besides, the way we tell it, our lives were so much fun, we’d live it the same way the second time around! Of course, the way it actually was may be different, and a second chance might be appreciated!
So, the only thing I can do is enjoy “his” life with him every time I get the chance. . . who knows, maybe I’ll be the one to check out first and he’ll get all my shoes! Just in case, I stopped buying shoes until I wear a pair completely out! He may get them, but he’s not going to enjoy them a bit!
George, my friend, I love ya!

(George Steven Lapas died on February 23, 2003. Moments later his Son handed me his shoes and said, “I guess these are your now.)