and Words
Standing in line, marking time
Waiting for the welfare dime
‘Cause they can’t buy a job
The man in the silk suit hurries by
As he catches the poor old lady’s eyes
Just for fun, he says, “Get a job”
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
Having arrived at the University of Miami, I started the ‘when-you-grow-up’ portion of my life. Everything that led up to this moment was automatic and somewhat scripted. I’ve now landed firmly on the “Uhm, now what?” portion of the movie. The first order of business was getting through orientation and registration.
Having gotten through those tasks, I met other incoming freshmen as I traversed my floor. George lived a few doors down from my room, and through him I met a number of other friends, among them was Ted.
Though I couldn’t imagine this at the time, these friends were ones that endured the years. Ted was four years my senior and delayed starting his education. He introduced me to the music of Bruce Hornsby, who was a Miami alumnus. Hearing this tune is inextricably associated with meeting those friends.
Ted and I had the most in common. We were both electrical engineers and fiercely competitive. I had far more experience programming Pascal, so I breezed through the EEN 117 class. We were both new at Statics however and took the course at the same time though with different professors. We both got exceptional grades on the same exam, like a 98% and 90%; I got the higher grade. 😉 Ted argued that the grader deducted far too many points for his reversing the sign of the vector, while my mistake should have more points deducted. Yes, we were that competitive.
As you might imagine, we also gave each other grief, which is perfectly normal for college students. Most of the time, it was good-natured and fun. We developed our own history with the quips over time. Occasionally, we’d push each other’s buttons a little too effectively; this too is a part of any relationship.
Ted eventually moved to mechanical engineering, where he was occasionally my sister’s classmate. To her dismay, he continued to break the curve. I specialized in computer engineering, which focused on digital circuits. We only shared few classes after that.
Four of us eventually became roommates. Against the odds, we reserved a two-bedroom, four-person apartment on campus. Our apartment was on the far side of campus, relative to the engineering building. It was garishly furnished with brightly colored vinyl furniture out of the 60’s. Each piece was built to sustain the abuse of unruly college students and optimized for durability over comfort.
However, we were all collectively still poor, and thus we needed to coordinate appliances. Among those items included a 13-inch television, a microwave, and a VCR. None of these were standard equipment in the apartment. We also got a second-hand window air-conditioner and paid the then astronomical $150 installation fee to mount it on our window.
Some of our other friends got an adjoining apartment, our respective back doors opened into the same staircase. We’d occasionally wander over as they watched episodes of David Letterman. Upon having too many drinks, a number of them recited Sy Sperling’s Hair Club For Men commercial with alarming synchronicity. It was both fascinating and a little distressing. 🙂
Ted and I shared a room in this apartment. This is where we persevered through Physics and other engineering classes. Ted would buy the beer since the rest of us were not yet old enough to buy it, but honestly, we rarely drank. Even then, I was much too strait-laced. He got an off-campus apartment the following year; I continued to stay in that apartment.
I drove a 1966 Ford Mustang during most of college; I had a love/hate relationship with that car. However, it was during this time that Ted pushed me to get the shop manual for it. We drove the short distance to the Discount Auto Parts and found the appropriate Clymer manual for my car.
With these greasy pages and a modest set of tools, kept in the trunk of my car, I saved hundreds of dollars maintaining the car myself. I’d buy more tools and parts as I needed them. Ted was my constant companion while I worked through the maintenance of my car. I learned about adjusting the points in my distributor, the firing order of the cylinders, adjusting the timing and the definition of top-dead-center.
He rarely did the actual fixing; he simply inspired and instructed me to do it myself.
Ted graduated as scheduled; I stayed for an additional year while I finished a second major in computer science. Though that delay also allowed me to graduate with my sister. We subsequently started our professional careers. We scattered across the states as we landed in our respective jobs.
Serendipitously, or perhaps intentionally, we eventually land on the corner opposite to where it all started, in Washington state. We lived just over an hour’s drive from each other; this allowed us to continue to keep in touch. I won’t tell you that we kept constant contact with each other, but it was persistent contact. We did make a point about not forgetting.
On an especially spectacular day, we make the stunning drive to Leavenworth. He and his wife drive his Mazda Miata as I follow on my Honda Del Sol. We each drive with the top down on our respective cars. The music is barely audible over the howl of the wind. We occasionally speed up and down the mountains at an alarming rate over 100 mph. Part of the drive was over a two-lane highway, where we’d occasionally have to negotiate passing on the opposite lane.
We had a leisurely lunch, in that town that was almost cartoonishly German. And the ride back was just as memorable; it is forever burned in my mind.
Ted amplified my fascination with cars. At first, I drove classic cars. I fooled myself into believing that I’d invest the time and energy into keeping them running. However, cars from the 1960’s break down in unexpected ways; parts like windshield wiper motors spontaneously fail. I got fed up with needing to work on them every weekend or their breaking down at unexpected times.
Next, I’ve owned practical cars. These vehicles that ran so reliably that I’d never have to think about simply getting behind the wheel and heading to my destination. While these were still fun… such as a two-seater targa top, they fulfilled the main purpose of transportation. For a while, this is precisely what I needed.
Finally, I moved to impractical cars that were simply pure joy to drive. Gone are luxuries like cup holders. There’s scarcely enough room for my laptop; I struggled to fit both a bag and a passenger in the car. I learned to contort into unnatural positions to ingress; a friend confessed that the only time he got a stomach cramp was getting into my car. However, once you start the drive, those irritations evaporate. The car responds almost telepathically; it’s automotive ecstasy.
Sprinkled in there was also a motorcycle. I officially got the motorcycle endorsement; many people who ride do not. I didn’t ride much, so I sold it to a friend. I’m sure that he’s giving it much more love than I did.
About a year ago, Ted and I exchanged a few messages. In that conversation, he expressed sadness over some conversations in our distant past. Honestly, I was a little perplexed but assured him that we were good. I held no rancor; I meant it. On every friendship we all do things we regret; we all say inappropriate things.
Perhaps what was conspicuously missing is what was not said. Though as you read this post it is abundantly clear. Ted is the closest thing that I’ve had to a big brother; genetics be damned. For many years, that’s how it has been. No, we don’t always agree, and sometimes we push each other’s buttons. Likewise, every great once in a while, our siblings can be mean. However, he has always had my best interest at heart. That’s brotherhood; I’m saying it out loud.
For my part, I never appropriately expressed gratitude for all the things that he did on my behalf… the kindness, the patience, and even for the occasional tough love.
We may choose to believe that family can’t extend from a Caucasian brother to a Chinese one. Not any more than it can extend from a Chinese brother to a Lithuanian one. We may choose to believe that the cultural chasm is too great.
Many conclude that it’s just The Way It Is… but don’t you believe them.