Travel Tales: The Way We Were

My dear friends, Stephen, Dwayne, and Sonia, don’t know what being a best friend truly means to me. In different ways, I owe them all a life debt. Along this journey, they saved me, most times from myself. The story of each friendship deserves a separate blog, as they are truly one in a million. However, the story below may help explain my meaning of friendship and why we should cherish those we trust in real time. True friendship is not a given.

It was a Thursday morning in April 1978. That morning was like so many others. My daily routine was underway as I slowly got ready to go to Lafayette High School in Williamsburg, VA. I was a sophomore, and the weather was finally warming up on Brookhaven Drive. The weekend was approaching, and any homework due Monday could wait until Sunday night. Weekends were meant for hanging out with Tabb, Troy, Albert, and Butch. Likely, some adventure in Newport News or Hampton with the crew would unfold. Some mornings, I drifted back to another part of my childhood.

Years ago, there was another crew, and we lived in another part of Williamsburg. Ricky and Ronnie Williams, Lonnie and Debbie Roacher, Ronell Ashlock, Johnnie McGibson, Iris, Tina, and Franklin Graham. Before kindergarten and grade school, these folks were my family. We played together and looked out for each other. A community so small that our parents could easily see if any of us got into any mischief. Franklin ( we called him “Hub”) was my first best friend at that early age. One year older and super smart, he was my first big brother. He was the first to invite me to hang out at his home for sleepovers. There, we’d snack and share our dreams for the future while making sure we didn’t talk too loudly as we were supposed to be asleep. He talked about his love for animals and wanting to one day become a veterinarian. I always thought it was so cool that he had his “act together” at such a young age.  And like a big brother, he’d tease me about all things (all the time). It was a tight group as we spent a lot of those early years together. Slowly, time would send us in different directions as life got in the way. And today, many of those friends are no longer with us. The “how and why” is a story for another day.

Back to 47 years ago, today. My friend Hub drove to school on that crisp spring morning, as he was approved to park on campus. I saw him at school most days, depending on our schedules. We could easily pick up discussions from weeks before. His parents were both well-known and respected educators in the Williamsburg-James City County School system. As for me, on that morning, I caught the bus with Tim Crump, Edwin Cooke, and Charles Mitchell. It was a normal day. On the way, our bus was rerouted away from Long Hill Road, as there was an accident along our normal route. Arriving at school, I heard there’d been an accident involving a high school student. And a few class periods later, I learned that my friend Hub had been killed. Mom and Dad had often talked about avoiding the Parkway along the James River, as the possibility of drowning was real. But a deadly car accident had never been a dinner table discussion before, until now. My sister would later share that the mother of another Lafayette student was also killed in the crash.

I sat stunned, as a teen, not fully comprehending the gravity of the loss. My Dad only saying over and over, “No parent should ever have to bury one of their children.” Mom kept me home from school that Friday, and hanging out with the guys that weekend was out. Instead, lots of kisses from my mom, and spent Sunday morning at church. Surely Reverand Wesley had an answer… But he didn’t.

Devastated would describe my feelings moving forward, as a precious link to my childhood was gone forever. In the days, weeks, and years to follow, I often thought about what could have been. I wondered about the man he would have become and his mark on society. His sisters moved forward to have amazing lives. Iris, the internationally known Sculptor, and Tina (following in her parents’ footsteps), the highly respected Educator. I could never fully imagine their lifelong pain.

During the rest of my years at Lafayette, I embraced the Tabb, Lemon, Johnson, and Banks families even more, and appreciated those guys (and their parents) with all I knew.  At the same time, I thought of Hub daily, with “what-ifs” rolling through my consciousness. As a college student at Hampton and then a young adult, he drifted through my thoughts often. Decades later, as a parent, I stressed to Glenn Jr. and Maddie to make the best of each day and appreciate the moments, as this journey is a one-way trip and not forgiving.

That Journey helped me to better cherish my friendships in the decades to follow. As with Hub, I give my (younger) brother Stephen a hard time on just about any subject (as he’s amazingly intelligent and needs to know his place), pick up the phone to speak with Dwayne, as our ongoing brotherhood now spans decades, and cherish conversations with my little sister Sonia, as she knows more about me than I know about myself. Friendships that span a lifetime, all with a direct link back to Hub and life in 1960s East Williamsburg.

On this Easter Sunday, 47 years later, listening to Earth, Wind, and Fire’s 1976 song “Burning Bush”, his memories rush over me like an overflowing creek following a storm. I reflect on my friend, Franklin Brady Graham… I miss you, man.

“That old bush just keeps on burning, share the hope for future learning. I wonder if we will ever feel the flame.”

                                                                                                                  ~Earth, Wind and Fire – 1976