Death feels like a snipped thread; it echoes with the shocked silence following the collapse of a tree. Suddenly, there is this absence, the memory of a space once filled.
Paul McLaughlin was my friend. It seems funny to write that about a man I spoke to once, and only briefly, over the past 25 years, but it is true nonetheless. For Paul had that effect on people; I'm sure he has many such friends, and some probably closer and more qualified than I to write about him. But I remember him fondly, and when I heard of his sudden passing, I felt moved to record a few of these fond memories. Paul... made me laugh. And I find myself wondering if it is any coincidence that the word "laugh" is in his name.
I first met Paul when we attended Horner Junior High in our hometown of Fremont. I cannot recall how we first became acquainted, but I'm sure he must have said something funny. I remember being at ease around Paul. In the tumultuous years of junior high and high school where bonds were forged and broken like alliances between warring nations, Paul was a steady friend.
At Horner, there were these bins where students were instructed to dump their lunch scraps. I don't remember why we were supposed to do this. The end result were bins full of sandwich crusts and other leftovers that the seagulls would greedily battle over. I'm not sure how it started, but Paul had an ongoing joke about those bins. When I'd ask, "What are you doing for lunch today, Paul?", he'd sigh, a look of sincere chagrin spreading across his face, and say, "It's lunch with the seagulls again for me. Wish me luck!" For some reason, I found the image of him battling it out with the seagulls for a few scraps of sandwiches absolutely hilarious. It never failed to get a laugh.
Another ongoing joke we had was Snuffles the Mouse. Snuffles was a cartoon character and Paul could do an imitation of him that was spot on. Perhaps it was too good. Regrettably, I became something of a pest, requesting that Snuffles make an appearance any time we crossed paths. "Hey, Paul. Paul! Do Snuffles the Mouse!" I'm surprised he humored me for as long as he did. Later, when we were in high school, I remember asking him to do it again, for old times sake, but he didn't even crack a smile. "No," he replied, "I don't do Snuffles anymore." I don't know now if this was due to the joke having worn a little thin or if by this time he was already diagnosed with the disease that would eventually claim his life. In either case, it would seem that Snuffles was permanently retired.
Probably I spoke to Paul at the 10 year reunion, but my memory betrays me and I cannot recall what we spoke about or if we spoke at all. My last clear memory of Paul was a chance meeting at a mall, probably Newpark, because I remember an escalator. It must have been after graduation, because I remember there being an air of surprise and finality about it, an unexpected meeting of two friends about to go separate ways. Our conversation was brief, likely filled with vague and hazy plans about our respective futures. As he stepped onto the escalator, I couldn't resist a parting shot. "Hey, Paul! Do Snuffles!" He grimaced and rolled his eyes, but as he turned away, I think I caught the hint of a smile. Then the escalator carried him up and away from me and into the fog.
I hope you had a good life, Paul. I hope you had time to pursue your dreams and maybe even catch one or two. And I hope, in the end, there was someone there to hold your hand.
"So put a candle in the window and a kiss upon his lips
As the dish outside the window fills with rain
Just like a stranger with the weeds in your heart
And pay the fiddler off 'til I come back again
Oh it's time time time, and it's time time time
And it's time time time that you love
And it's time time time"
~Tom Waits
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