Best Friends and First Loves

Growing up we all meet people who become special to us. There are three such people I can think of right now through my life. The first is my wife. She is my best friend and confidant, we share pretty much everything together, hurts, loves, hobbies and interests are all part of our shared life. We have amazing children and I often think I would have never made it as far with life goals as I have without her.

Next on this list is someone I met when I believe we were both in the first grade. John was my buddy, he and I played together and helped to shape each other’s images of what a friend should be. My family moved away from his in the summer between our 4^th and 5^th grade years. We lost touch and lived out our lives. Today John has found me through the wonders of social media, and we are great friends once again. While we don’t live very close to one another I like to think one day soon we will close that gap at least for a reunion visit.

Where the story of this memory begins is in that summer before my 5^th grade year when my family moved. We only moved across town, but it was Riverside California and in that day for two young children it might as well have been another country. There was no internet and phone calls were expensive. We were little and our parents didn’t see the significance of the friendship we had developed.

When we arrived at our new home it was a little house in a neighborhood on one of the only hills in the region. We moved to a street named Skylane Drive in an area of Riverside known as Sunnyslope. The houses on our side of the street faced the uphill climb so our driveway was significantly higher than the house itself. A rather steep and short slope lead downward to the houses. Mowing that yard, I remember standing at the top of that hill and letting the mower carry me down the hill.

When we first pulled in the driveway, I saw this little family in the house next door. Mom and Daughter perhaps saying goodbye for the workday to Dad. I thought to myself, oh look a girl to be friends with my older sister. They were a Spanish family and if my memory serves me correctly the mother was from Argentina and the father from Spain, but I could be wrong on the Spain part.  

That young girl next door ended up being a significant person in my life instead of my sisters like I first thought. Crystal was average height, on the thin side much like me. She had short dark brown, almost totally black hair and the most adorable, crooked smile I had ever seen. She would even smile a little when she was angry.

She and I would wave at each other and learned to have little chats occasionally over the rest of the summer. As I was registered for school in the area, I remember she and I had the same bus to school, but she was in the 4^th grade, and I was 5^th. On the first day I worked my way through the schedule and to the end of the day. Walking out to the buses I remember thinking; which bus do I get on? The numbers were not the same as what I had been told. As I wandered Crystal came up behind me and guided me to the “Sunnyslope” bus to find my way home. I still remember she was wearing her favorite shirt. It was a white shirt with red jersey style sleeves and it had a picture of the ET movie on it, which was a new film at that time. I had a photo of her in that shirt from that school year, for decades later, but I am not sure what happened to it today.

Over time she and I became close friends. She was about six months or more, younger than I was but at our age she was probably way more mature than I was. Over the course of that school year, I fell for this girl next door. I don’t remember a ton of the details, but she was the light of the day. Every time I saw her or talked to her the day was instantly great.  I was stricken by her and intimidated just being around her. When we were together, I could never seem to get the words out I wanted to say.

During the last part of that year, my father got a contract position and started living out his weeks way up north near Santa Barbara working as a technician on the space shuttle program. We would only see him on a few weekends. That summer Dad took each of us kids to spend a week with him in the RV our family had purchased for him to live in near the job. Spending the week with Dad in a resort like RV park was awesome, but over that one week I missed seeing and talking to Crystal. I was happy to get home. Then before school started for my 6^th grade year, my parents announced that we were moving to live in that RV up north for the school year and would be renting out our house while we were gone. Oh, my goodness I was devastated. As kids we are resilient and while we were away, I threw myself into schoolwork. I love my family, but at that time I had this hole in my heart where Crystal belonged.

School work for the 6^th grade came easy. I was reading at the 12^th grade level and skipped over several grade levels in other subjects. I am sure my parents saw this as positive and to some respect it was. To keep me focused that year I wore a ring my mother gave to me that had the initial T surrounded by the initial C on it. I am sure it was a bit silly at that age, but it meant everything to me.

Remember there was no internet and Crystal and I did not have phones we could use to call each other then. My brother and sister went through some super tough times during that year and at the end of it my parents’ announcement that we were moving back home was so exciting to me.

When we arrived home, we found our house had been trashed by the renters. The house had wood floors and when the renters left, they plugged the sinks, turned on all the water and the heater. Then closed the whole place up. That first night I asked my parents if I could sleep in the camper shell my dad had put on the back of his little truck. They agreed.

 It was a warm summer night and I got uncomfortable in my clothes, so I took my pants off to sleep better in the underwear. I guess I was making too much noise rolling around in the truck because Crystal and her mom came out of their house with a flashlight looking around the yard. I so badly wanted to jump out of the truck and say hi, but realizing I was not dressed I just froze and hid. Right after they went inside I got dressed again, and spent half the night peaking out of the camper window.

The next day Crystal and I reconnected our relationship and she shared some of the horror stories of the renters’ children that happened while we were away. I remember only half listening to the stories because I was so glad to be around her again. You know that warm cozy feeling you have when you are around someone you love? That was what I felt around her then.

Over the course of the coming months our relationship once again developed. We went to the same school but again in different grades. She had her friends and I had mine. I was the goofy ginger, and she was part of a higher class of people in the school so we ran in different circles. With different classes and friend groups we didn’t interact much at school. I started walking home from school because I was picked on, during the bus rides. Folks liked to pick on the red head then. Crystal and I would interact when at home and even spend time on the phone or over the fence talking about our day or friends we had made.

As our relationship developed, I asked her if she would be my official girlfriend and she agreed. We still didn’t interact at school and our relationship didn’t change much, but it did for me. Life felt different. My sister recalled a time when I purchased this crystal heart necklace to give to my new girlfriend as a sign of affection. The day I was to give it to her I awoke to find that she and her family had moved out during the evening and were gone. My sister tells me I was so upset that I gave the necklace to her, and she has kept it all these years.

About a month after Crystal had gone, I received a letter from her telling me that her grandmother had been sick, and her family had gone to Rosario Argentina to be with her. Then for several years she and I exchanged letters where the language we used to express ourselves grew far more personal and romantic. I was able to express myself better in the written word than I ever could in person.  

I had tried to form dating relationships with one or two other girls during the time of letters, but it never clicked. I was hooked and Crystal was the only one that made me feel whole in those days. In one letter she told me she was coming to visit. Oh, my goodness I was on top of the world. The church I attended was having a youth night with dinner and a movie on the same night Crystal was going to be there. I thought it was perfect. She came while her parents visited with one of the neighbors on the other side. I picked her up and we walked over to the church for the evening. I ate nervously and she didn’t. We sat closely but feeling a bit awkward around the other teens after sharing so many personal thoughts with one another in letters. It felt like the others were an intrusion but we silently held hands during the evening.

That evening I remember there was another girl there that I had briefly tried to date, but we had broken up about a month earlier. The whole evening she and her friends sat in another part of the room whispering in each others ears and looking back at Crystal and I. I think it made Crystal feel unwelcomed. If I remember correctly we did not stay for the whole movie.

At the end of the night, we slowly walked back to the house her parents were visiting and talked the time away. When I went to say goodbye, we hugged in the deepest hug I had ever felt to that point in my life. I was a terribly shy person and walked away that night thinking of so many other things I could have done or said. Thinking why didn’t I kiss her? At the same time, I was feeling so high from seeing her again. That night I was 16 and she was 15 or we were both 15 I don’t recall. I don’t remember all that I said but I left her at that house that night thinking this is the girl for me. I couldn’t get my mind off her and I ended up not sleeping much that night. I sat awake wondering what she was doing or where she was.

Crystal said that she and her family planned to move to Los Angeles soon and she would share the new address when they did. The next day I wrote to her at the Argentina address. Letters grew less frequent as the two of us tried to find ways to pay for the expensive postage. We made the most of the letters we did send with thick paper stuffed envelopes. After a year we had again moved to a different part of town, and I was in the first year of high school. I sent several letters over the time and heard back a few times, but never with a new address. Always to the town in Argentina.

One day getting ready for school during the end of my sophomore year, Crystal called me from Argentina. She shared the many things that had been going on in her life. That she was teaching young children and enjoying it. The call cost a fortune in those days so it was only about 10 minutes long, but we made the most of it. At the end of the call, I remember being so emotional I could hardly talk because my mother was nearby and I felt I couldn’t fully open up with her listening. We started to say our goodbyes and she said, “I love you; I want you to know that.” All I could muster out of my mouth was “me too.” Then she was gone. I have never forgotten those words she spoke as they were burned into my mind. I remember thinking her voice was heaven, but at the same time it felt so final. Ignoring that feeling of finality, I was so high that week at school no-one could stop me. Crystal was the first girl that told me she loved me in spite of the awkwardness I felt always getting picked on as a child. She made me fell valued and important at least to her.

Calling was expensive so we continued to exchange letters and talk about how we planned to get married one day.  For the teenage boy I was then, Crystal was everything. Life was difficult and “talk” with her made all the cares of the world melt away. I read each letter over many times until the next one came.

During the summer before my junior year of high school we visited family in central Oregon. It was a fun and eventful trip for me, but again, not so much fun for my siblings. Not long after we returned from that trip my parents announced that Dad was quitting his job and we were moving to Oregon. I quickly wrote a letter to Crystal sharing my aunt and Uncles address where we would forward our mail for a time.

My parents planned to put me on a greyhound bus and send me to Oregon by myself over the Christmas break of my junior year so I could start school when the break was over. My older siblings were both out of school and living their own lives for the most part.

When I was all packed and just before leaving my letter to Crystal was returned to our home with a giant red stamp on it that read “Mudose.” Not knowing Spanish, I had no idea what that word meant, but it brought back the feelings of finality I had when she last spoke to me over the phone.

That trip to Oregon was the longest feeling trip I ever had. I was about 17 years old and raging with feelings of being abandoned. Even the one person who had been my rock may now be gone and she had no way to contact me again.

When I arrived in La Pine Oregon it was a snowy Winter morning, and everything was closed. The bus dropped me off at this little station in a town of only a few thousand people. After living in the city it was a huge change. The town’s only feature was a flashing yellow light near the bus drop and a few closed stores along the highway. It was a rural town where most people lived out in the wooded areas around it. I used the nearby pay phone to call my uncle. I waited freezing for what seemed like a long time for my Uncle John to arrive, but it probably wasn’t that long. He picked me up in his truck and we drove about 5 miles out into the forested areas where most people lived. The remainder of that school year was a difficult time living in someone else’s home when I felt they didn’t want me there, while my family made the move.  

My uncle was really the only one that I felt wanted me around. All but one cousin and their mom were indifferent and sometimes hostile toward me. One cousin was always nice, but she had her own life going on. At one point I had suspicions that the eldest boy was spending time going through my stuff. So, to prove my point I grabbed a VHS movie from their rack of hundreds and put it in a box of my things under clothing. The next morning, I found that VHS tape back on the rack in the living room.

Weeks later, getting acquainted with my new school was difficult. It was a small town where most of the students had been together their whole lives. I often found myself in the library around kids then considered the geeks. They were more accepting than most of the others. As time went on some of the more popular kids decided to nickname me Archie, because they thought I looked like the cartoon redhead. I have to say I hated it then, but today I have learned to enjoy red head nicknames. Much later in life I even picked up the nickname Clifford (the big red dog.)

One day, feeling particularly lost at school, I had that last rejected letter sent to Crystal in my backpack with me and I went to the library to find a Spanish/English dictionary. I was going to find out what this stamp meant once and for all. When I looked up the word Mudose and found its definition I remember feeling even more crushed. The most common translation for it was Deceased or Dead. Years later I learned that it could have just meant dead address with no forward, but then, all I saw was the word dead. To me then, Crystal might as well have been dead, because I would never be able to reach her again. One moment I had a little hope and the next my life was dark and empty.

Not long before that time, my parents had successfully moved that old RV to my uncle’s house and I ended up spending a lot of time in it to get away from others. That old RV was not connected to the house, so it was cold and dark which was great for me at the time. That RV was quiet, surrounded by the muffling effect that snow gives the world. It was my solitude.

I remember the evening after learning the translation sitting there alone with the bitter winter cold outside, huddling in my dad’s all weather sleeping bag. What was I going to do. I had sort of been a Christian, but not seriously and I prayed that night. God Help me through this. Then I pulled out a 22-caliber revolver my brother had given to me weeks before. It was broken he said. If you try to shoot it, it may blow up in your face. That night that was the perfect result I thought. I pulled out that gun put it to the side of my right temple and pulled the trigger.

Click, was all I heard. Miss fire. Even with real ammo loaded and ready, nothing. I laid the gun down and went into the house to find my cousins and brother playing cards or something like that. I don’t remember everyone that was there so that point is a blur. They just looked at me and kept on with their game. That night I swore I didn’t care about anyone anymore.

The next day I started carrying that gun to school in my bag every day, loaded. No one else knew it was broken and having it around gave me confidence. My grades slipped into a terrible state, and I went looking for excuses to cause trouble. I even changed my friend group to a few kids that had a reputation for doing drugs.

Without going too far into the next phase of life and next friend I will say that I feel God sent me a friend to pull me out of it all. I have told her that several times over the years., but I never shared why.

I met a girl named Jeanette at school and started spending time with her. She would be my diversion I thought to myself, but she is still a friend today. She was a country girl, and her dad was a rough, hard working country guy. Her parents even served as the parental figures I needed in my life while mine were dealing with the dramas of such a long-distance move. I like to think I bonded with her dad at some level. He is a great guy.

Over the remaining time in school Jeanette was the friend, girlfriend and friend again that I needed. We even went to my senior prom together, but for now here is where I end the story with Crystal. Perhaps someday life will update this story. Crystal and I have not met or communicated since that last returned letter.

I have taken a few moments a time or two over the years looking for her online, but without knowing where she is today her name is a difficult one as it is popular in several countries. Many today do not realize that the internet and social media for the public did not even get started until after I was out of high school. Looking for someone from my generation can be hit or miss because many of us do not actively participate online. To add to that, the early versions of social media were not in use popularly until high school days had been gone around 10 years. So here is an invitation. Crystal, if you are out there. Get in touch.

Present day always has more chapters to be written and with God’s help I have been given the love of my life in my wife Glenda and our amazing kids together. Married for over 30 years now, circumstances of the day have brought this story flooding back to mind. I write this not to discount what a wonderful experience my wife is, but to share the emotions of that first love growing up. We all have them. Some are far better than my experience and some are far worse.

I leave this story at this stage to tell the reader, that I have been through the drama and terribly conflicting emotions of growing up. I have been at deaths door and been saved by the Grace of God. Just like all of us that first love will always be in my memories and have some place in my heart. Perhaps even as a friend someday if she were out there to contact. If she could speak for herself, I am sure Crystal could fill in many of the gaps in this story with her impressions of the sometimes-foolish boy I was.

What I must remember is that God loved me before I learned to love anyone else. He saved me and carried me through all the triumphs and trials of the day. I experienced many things, and all of them for a reason. Perhaps if you are reading this and in a similar spot that I was those years ago you will be comforted knowing that no matter who or where you are, God loves you and if you need it, I would be happy to introduce you to Him.