I just got back from my annual excursion to the SSAAC Flea Market in Mansfield, Massachusetts. The SSAAC is the South Shore Antique Auto Club, one of the largest clubs in New England, if not the country. They have held this event for longer than I have been alive, and that's a while.
I started attending this show with my older brother. He is "in to" cars, and would buy and sell at the meets each year. I spent a good portion of my childhood, teens and so on following him to this event. We would camp out for the weekend, as it is a three day event. Grills would be cooking burgers, hot dogs, sausages, chicken and whatever else we could get a hold of. Beverages flowed from ice-filled coolers. Friends would gather, and fellow vendors, some who we hadn't seen since the previous year, would catch up on the goings on in our lives.
As the years went by, things changed. As I got older, got married, and had a family to support, I couldn't spend as much time at the meet, going home each night to be with my family. As my brother got older, and developed some health issues, he was bringing less and less merchandise each year. This year, we collectively had very little for sale, but still went because it is our tradition. This was, and still is, the one weekend my brother and I put aside to bond with each other, and we both relish this weekend each year.
Again, we saw many old friends that we hadn't seen since last year. There was a great deal of catching up to do for many people. Heck, personally, since last years meet, I have started going to college, had a major surgery, released my debut single on iTunes, and am making a return to the wrestling ring as a manager. Others had even more important events, like marriages, births, and such. Inevitably though, I noticed a thread of conversation that was seemingly in nearly every conversation. It was a comment that, in one variation or another, echoed the same sentiment- I miss Wally.
Walter Rich, or Wally as we called him, was the guy you went to high school with who was "in to" cars, has a smile that lit up a room, and a bit of a mischievous streak in him that was funny, not malicious. He had a heart of gold, and would do you any favor if he could possibly find the time. He was well known at this flea market, because he understood things about cars that few people did, and folks always sought out his advice, and help on their personal projects. In the seven years since he passed, I have not heard one unkind word uttered in the same breath as his name. Everyone who met him, liked him. He was "that guy".
February 21, 2003, Wally, and a couple hundred other people went to a night club in Rhode Island called "The Station".They featured local bands a lot, and a couple times a month would bring in an act from the last couple of decades that still had some recognition. This particular night, the band was Great White. For those of you not familiar with the story, a fire broke out in the club that night, injuring 98 people, and killing 100 people, including my friend Wally.
Facebook has a memorial page dedicated to the victims of the fire, both living and deceased. It can be seen here. Take a moment, look at the pages, the comments and the pictures. Whether you personally knew one of the victims or not, it is a sobering experience.
Stewart O'Nan wrote a book on the subject. this quote is from that book:
"To be lost and forgotten-to be abandoned-is a shared and terrible fear, just as our fondest hope,as we grow older,is that we might leave some part of us behind in the hearts of those we love and in that way live on. We may not be able to change what has been but we certainly change what is. Help us to give the only gift within our power, a gift we wish desperately for our loved ones, a gift we all want...
TO BE REMEMBERED."
I miss you buddy.
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