Bird Droppings April 7, 2025
My friend Trooper, I am pondering, remembering, and digesting the stories.

Fifty-two years ago, I was a student at Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, having moved south only a few months prior from Pennsylvania. Macon was new to me, and I must admit I was somewhat naive at the time. In the student center for those of us who lived off-campus, it was a place where we could grab some food, study between classes, and socialize. I recall the day I met Trooper. Never one to be quiet and demure, he demanded attention. You knew when he was around. Back then, his typical outfit consisted of a pair of ragged cutoff jeans and a T-shirt; looking back, that was pretty much the standard year-round. On that day, several girls giggled and screamed in the canteen as Trooper strolled by. He had inadvertently pulled down a tube top or two as he walked by. In today’s world, the campus police would have been called in the 1970s; the girls were asking for an autograph. The fine line of perception has shifted significantly since the 1970s.

At that time, I was working in a center for special needs children and adults, and out of the blue, a Trooper showed up to volunteer. I see another side of this larger-than-life fellow from Mercer Campus. At that time, he was not a student but would audit courses he liked. He worked for a band promoter as a sort of bouncer, keeping the band members in line. We became good friends. Somehow, he ended up volunteering at my center, and a few weeks later, I found myself serving as a character witness at his drug trial. I will never know if it was synchronic or deliberate. If not for the next few years knowing him, I would have said deliberate, and my father thought that till the day he died. Trooper continued working at various programs after he escaped from jail and relocated to Albany, Ga. Never really sat down with my dad and went over all of that. Several stories there.

As I think back, it’s the stories of all those years. Boys’ Club camping trips to North Carolina, a rustic cabin in Dahlonega, trips to Albany, Georgia, meeting the sales representative for an archery company, and a memorable one: my wedding, where he pulled out a large Buck knife to carve frozen grapes from a table display. I weigh the good and great stories over the one or two bad ones.

Good stories, great stories, and several sad stories all intermingle as I think back. It has been five long years since his daughter called and informed me that he had been hospitalized. Then, great news, he may be getting out of CCU and going to a regular room. Then, a short time later, he suffered a massive heart attack, and they could not revive him. So here I am, pondering, remembering, and thinking of all the stories. I had a long, dream-filled night last night. I thought back to how upset I was that I hadn’t traveled to visit him in many years, and he had not visited me; we always had a reason: he was unable to drive due to poor vision, and I always seemed to be busy. We had maintained near-daily communication through social media, discussing politics and sharing our stories.

With my mother passing almost six years back, now thinking back to Troopers’ passing, I am remembering that time is often an enemy as we grow older. Our bodies are constantly at war with us. I vacuumed the living room and took my blood pressure, You can do this, but not today. May I have another minute with a friend or engage in another conversation? A dear friend in Pennsylvania came up with this in an email. “Every time a classmate (and I would say friend) dies, it means we’re closer to being the next one to go or closer to being the last one alive. The problem is that when I find the answer to that question, I won’t be able to tell you. I need to spend my time with family and friends more wisely.

 I was reminded a few days back about stories my father would tell. I promised my brother and sisters I would write them down. I need to get them down. Now, another group of stories needs to be put on paper so they can be retold. It is our stories that give us life. I wish my mother and my good friend, Trooper, well in their new journey, namaste.

My family and friends, I do not say this lightly,

Mitakuye Oyasin

(We are all related)

docbird