Today is my friend Michael's birthday. Yes, he is a leap year man, so very, very special. I first met Mike in 1973 when he moved in across the street from me. I lived at home with my mom, my sisters M and J. I was a child. He was bigger than life, in his mid-twenties and drove a maroon Dodge Van. He was so exciting, full of energy, always had a smile on his face. He rode a Harley Sportster too.
Mike had two roommates, Dan S. the fireman and Murray G. the salesman with a weakness for big boobs. Murray had a motorcycle too. They all drove vans and belonged to a van club, Murray's was a gold colored Chevy. They were all real nice but I loved Mike the most.
They had music playing all the time in their house, great music - Steely Dan, the Doobies, CCR, Led Zepplin, Cream, Santana and of course, the Eagles. They threw huge parties too, keggers. Both sides of our whole street would be filled with nothing but vans. Girls in their early twenties used to come to their parties and giggle in the front yard. I'd sit in my house, looking out the window, wishing I was old enough to go to their parties.
My mom liked them and they respected her. They gave her rides on their motorcycles occasionally. But there was an understanding between them. I wasn't just a kid, I was her kid, not some challenge. The guys were never disrespectful to any of the neighbors and when they held parties, somehow they always managed to move onto another place before pissing off the whole street. Nobody yelled or started fights or threw beer cans in the road.
During the summer I became a teenager, I used to go across the street and hang out for hours. Sometimes we'd watch TV, other times I'd grab a dishtowel and dry while they washed dishes. Schools let out in June and you could rest assured you'd forget everything you learned before it recommenced in September. I had other things to learn, mostly from Mike. That was the summer I grew breasts, Murray was smitten. I also learned to inhale a cigarette, roll a joint and how to shotgun a beer. I used to go cruising with them in their vans or on their bikes and hang out on warm summer nights with them, listen to music and talk with their friends.
I also had my boob felt up by Murray, he was obssessed. He snuck up behind me and groped me. If Switters, in/of Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates can say vagina in a thousand different languages, Murray knew more words for breasts than any man alive. Geez, what a dope he was. If I had to pick a modern day guy that reminds me of Murray, it'd have to be Jack Black. But you'd have to add glasses and a way bigger nose.
But there was no one like Mike. Mike was a General Contractor and worked with his dad and brother. He had wavy light brown hair that kind of stuck out all over, like wings. He had hazel eyes, was ohhhh, about six- three and weighed 180. He used to say his hair was like pubes because it was so out of control. He smelled like Winstons. He tasted like Dr Pepper. One of his favorites things to say when he got excited about getting something done or going somewhere was, BLICKA!! It was his voila!!
Mike loved to dress up for Halloween. On year he was an OB/gyn. The next a cowboy. The next year he was an arab shiek. He had a turban complete with cords, layers of robes and a sword that scared the crap out of everyone within ten feet. Trick or treat indeed. He had a dog named Shadow. She was a Brittney Spaniel. She was so calm, smart and pretty. He said he got her because he liked his girls with freckles. This made me blush so deeply my freckles all but disappeared.
He moved away but we stayed in touch off and on. For awhile. One time when I saw him we ate some acid, his first time. He asked me about four in the morning, "How do you sleep? Everytime I close my eyes I see patterns. When does the show turn off?" The show was just starting.
I am not sure but I think Mike was born in 1948. By that count he should have had fifteen birthdays so far. Which is about the age I wish he'd been when I adored him. I still adore him. I miss him. Technically he is sixty and if he is still walking, he should still be partying. I wonder how he is, where he is.... I'd like to give him a big birthday kiss. BLICKA!!!
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