Losing My Old Friend - Nez

 Losing My Old Friend

By Nez Nesmith

Have you ever had a friend you grew up with but lost touch with and now he or she won’t even talk with you? I do. Doyle and I grew up as best friends and our houses were less than fifty yards apart. We were always friends and then my family moved to Seattle. Both of us graduated high school at the same time, me from Ballard HS in Seattle, he from Sedro-Woolley HS, my old stomping grounds. 

After graduation I got a job in the Navy shipyards in Bremerton, WA and Doyle was soon drafted into the Army. About eighteen months later I joined the Army and went to Fort Ord, California for basic training, then to school at Fort Devens, Massachusetts for cryptography training, and then to Vint Hill Farms Station in Virginia. By then Doyle was in Germany. So, when I went back home on leave I went to Lyman to see old friends and I saw those that were in the area, but not Doyle. 

After my four years of serving Uncle Sam my wife, Judy, and I took a six-week circuitous route from Virginia to Seattle where I went to school on the GI Bill, and she got a job at the Boeing Everett Plant (she worked on the manufacture of the first twenty-four Boeing 747 jumbo jet’s). With her job and my GI Bill, we still barely made ends meet. We had bills, an apartment, a car and school to pay for, so money was tight. Busy as we were and still newlyweds, we were really still getting to know one another, and having the time of our lives, we weren’t really paying much attention to anyone else. We were totally and literally wrapped up in ourselves, and school and work. 

Later I reached out to old friends from Lyman, and boy had things changed. With one exception all of my old buddies were now married, and some had kids. I hadn’t quite expected that. It had only been six years, but wholly cow. Anyway, we went to see Doyle and Marlene and their kids. We were surprised to see that they lived in a two bedroom single-wide mobile-home in the middle of a field. There wasn’t really a driveway, more of a wagon trail. But they had a home with heat, water, electricity, a septic system, a car and a pickup, two dogs and two wild boys. Doyle, Marlene and we talked and laughed, totally ignoring the wild hyenas. The dogs were fine. We had dinner and reminisced. Then on the way home Judy and I both agreed that when we had kids they would never be allowed to act like that, period. Not quite anyway.  

After school Judy and I moved off to Texas and raised our small family. We traded Christmas cards and Doyle and I talked occasionally. As years rolled by we kept In touch by phone and eventually Facebook. Suddenly our kids were grown, and we were middle-aged, and our parents were old. We didn’t talk as often and Doyle and I drifted further apart. 

One time I called, and Marlene said Doyle wouldn’t talk on the phone anymore, he didn’t hardly talk to people anymore, just the dogs. That was really strange. Talking was Doyle’s thing. He loved to talk and laugh. He was his best self when he was in conversation. She said he’s changed, was mostly sullen and quieter now. She couldn’t figure it out and he wouldn’t talk to anyone about it, least of all her. I called again later, and nothing had changed. I tried emailing and texting, but he didn’t respond. Marlene said she thought he might be going deaf, but he wouldn’t get it checked. I remembered his dad was that way about doctors and his hearing. There was a lot of yelling.

When it became obvious to me that my hearing was going I shared with Marlene that I was getting hearing aids. Marlene said that Doyle was now very hard of hearing and still won’t get it checked out. She said, “I think you’ve lost your old buddy.” I thought, “And, you’ve lost your husband?” before she replied, “I’m afraid I’m losing him too, at least for now.” That was about seven years ago. There’s still no change. 

Last year when hearing aids became widely available OTC I made sure that Marlene was aware. I even suggested she buy a pair, bring them home and have him try them. She did. He wouldn’t and still won’t. But I’m still hopeful. Sort of…

Nez Nesmith

December 2023