Checkmate

“You don’t have any kids?” he questioned me with a hint of sarcastic surprise in his voice. Followed closely by “and come to think of it, you don’t even have any grandkids!” I couldn’t suppress the laughter that was bubbling inside of me and it began to slip out as I tried to remain focused and serious.

Then the first match ended almost before it began. I should have seen it coming. The first pawn of mine that was taken resulted in check-mate. So as suddenly as we started it was over. I don’t take losing easily and wasn’t going to let that happen again, despite my lack of experience in playing chess, compared to the 72 year old retired English teacher with an afro that was sitting across from me. 

The pieces were quickly retest which wasn’t hard considering the brevity of the first match. The board was then rotated and play continued. Things were different this time. Play progressed, a queen was captured, castles consumed, knights knocked out, and bishops bagged until finally I had his king trapped with no means of escape. My cunning and daring strategy had somehow outwitted the years of experience that guided the pieces opposite of mine.

Anyone else observing this scene would probably have difficulty believing their eyes. Here is an old man playing chess, which isn’t a surprise, but the fact that his opponent was barely a third of his age. Not a common occurrence especially for someone my age to be there by choice and not out of obligation or any other ulterior motives. I am old enough to be his grandson, and if I were common to my generation I would expect to mercilessly distract by my phone and other outside forces. This was different though. I had the weekend from work, and I hadn’t seen one of my best friends in quick a while, and decided to make the quick trip to pay him a visit.

From an outsider’s perspective we had very little in common at all, but they couldn’t be more wrong. Despite the many years that separated us we got along great. Had we been born in the same decade we would have been inseparable, but we weren’t going to let that stop us. We both had the same sarcastic and ridiculous sense of humor, loved music and played the guitar, and liked to make fun of each other and others. Despite our physical age differences, our minds are both about the age of 11, which makes things almost too fun at times.

Once upon a time we were both working janitorial on weeknights cleaning the offices at a truck depot. It was probably the nastiest job that I have ever had. Especially the bathrooms, which were at times tainted by trucker blowouts. He loved to tell me not to put things in my mouth, as if I were the one that was 2 years old. One night he had me put new urinal cakes in the men’s bathroom. He had me three and looked at me very sternly and said, “These aren’t Altoids, SO don’t put them in your mouth, cause they will take your breath away!” This was followed by both of us bursting into laughter.

The only thing that made cleaning bearable, and the only reason I was even there was because we had so much fun together. One night my “supervisor/boss” strategically hid himself in one of the back offices that I always got around to vacuuming last. As I opened the door I found a dirty rag flying at my face, and heard an unearthly yell. Needless to say I was quite startled and once I had my wits about be I found the old man literally rolling around on the dirty carpet with short bursts of giggling escaping at sporadic intervals. 

This is only one example of the many adventures that shaped and forged this unlikely friendship. Despite all of the fun and practical jokes, there were times when we would discuss more serious in an often light hearted way, but knowing that deep down we both recognized the true importance of these more heavy matters. It is also said that those that work and serve together develop some of the strongest bonds of friendship. There we many experiences together serving some widowed women and sick seniors that lived in our area in various ways. Not only was he a good friend, but a great example as well. There is more to life than just fun and games all the time.

As with most friendships time and circumstance would take us far from each other. Even with the advancements in modern communication, we would only occasionally talk to each other. However whenever circumstances and time would permit, we would make plans to go get a cheap senior discounted meal at a fast food restaurant, or for the first time, a friendly and competitive match of chess. Either way, whenever we would get together it was awesome because we both would be practically the same person that we were the previous time. It’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks and when you’re as hard headed as me, change is slow, painful and far between. I am always looking forward to the time that we get together. I also start to feel a bit older too when, we get to reminisce about the many good times that we have had in the past.

My mom would always tell me when I was growing up that friends would come and go but family is the only thing that will last. While she was right about basically everything including this there is one exception. Every other friend that I’ve had growing up until now that has been relatively close to my age has moved on for some reason or another. Marriage, graduating, military, and careers all seem to pull those friends of mine from my life. However I can truly say that I’ve had one friend that despite distance and changes in my life has always been there, and can without a doubt make me laugh. I don’t even want to think about the time that will come when he literally won’t be around anymore. At any rate before I know it I’ll be the one on the experienced side of the chess board, reliving my younger years with some punk kind.

Down the Window Crack

We were sitting in front of my apartment in his car, uncomfortably damp in our swimsuits after a summer night in the hot tub. I was making dumb conversation, not wanting to go inside and end the night.

“Let’s get drinks,” he said.

Thrilled he wanted to spend more time together, I suggested Sonic and we were off.

Waiting in the drive-through line we compared each other’s drivers’ license pictures while I worried his eyes would linger too long on my weight stat.

“Okay, let’s talk about something else,” I said, grabbing my license.

He put his license back in his wallet and took out his credit card. He rolled his window down because we were next in line to pay.

He snapped his card back and forth as he told me a story about his roommate. He gestured his left hand to emphasize a point when the card sailed away. 

There was a brief silence.

His face, always so collected, turned an endearing and entirely new shade of red.

“Did you just drop your card?”

“Uh. Yeah,” he said, leaning outside of the car to look down at the street.

“Do you see it?”

He kept staring outside and then felt down under his seat, but the card would not be found. 

"I'm sure it's here," I said with a nervous laugh.

“So," he said after a moment, "I don’t know how this happened…but I think it's down the window crack."

There was no way, yet it was true. He rolled his window up and down but the card would not come out. 

We lost ourselves in crying laughter before the car in front of us pulled away. I didn't care that I had to buy the drinks now; having an inside joke was worth four dollars. 

"I didn't even know that was possible," he said with a gruff laugh, rolling his eyes as he put the car in drive. 

We pulled up to the cashier with wet faces as he handed her my card. 

A Bald Mans Worst Nightmare

I am bald. My hair line started receding at the ripe old age of 17 and continued falling out until there was nothing left at the age of 22. Since I have grown accustomed to no longer having hair I have also grown accustomed to the absence of little strands of hair in my personal space, especially my food. This became a problem when my sister in-law moved in with us for the summer. 

Kimber is a hair dresser and as you would expect is always sporting the latest updo, melt, wave or braid. Now don’t get me wrong, she has very beautiful hair. It is the kind that glistens in the sun and looks as if it should be spotlighted in an Herbal Essences commercial but because of her profession she doesn't seem to recognize the beauty of being bald.

 

I was excited for her to move in. We grew up in the same neighborhood and have known each other since the 5^th grade, but that excitement ended the first night she decided to cut a “girlfriends” hair in our kitchen, right above the air vent. It seems that as she was chatting away with her friends doing “a little trim” the air conditioner turned on and blew strands of hair all over the kitchen.

Now I am a pretty easy going guy but when my wife makes me a tatter tot casserole for dinner and the first bite I take is accompanied by a long, black hair whose genetic code has no relation to any of the residence in my home, I go a little crazy. Once I pulled the long, greasy strand out of the once tasty meal in my mouth, I looked at my sister in-law and said “whose is this?” and she replied “oh… you know… just a friend’s!” and then went back to her meal as if there was no problem. I then replied “since I am such a nice guy I am going to let this slide, but please clean up all the hair when you are done cutting it” to which she rolled her eyes and said “yea, yea!”

The next day I had all but forgotten about the previous evening’s event and decided to make a sandwich for lunch. I took a huge bite and started to chew until I felt something foreign rolling around my mouth with the lettuce and turkey. I stuck my fingers in and pulled out another long, black piece of hair to which I rolled my eyes and thought “this is going to be a long, long summer.”

Roommate Takeover

I open the door to the apartment and collapse inside. What a day it has been. And all I want to do now is relax in my apartment. A few steps in and I throw myself on the coach. Laying there for a few seconds, I enjoy the silence. Then noticing the click-click of my roommate playing his computer games, I put a pillow over my face. It only muffled the noise, but it was one step closer to the silence I so desperately craved.

photo from: media.tumblr.com/

My stomach gurgles and I realize how hungry I actually am. Sitting up, I make myself leave the comforts of the couch. With heavy footsteps I walk into the kitchen— YUCK. WHAT did I just step in?? I flip on the light and look down at the floor. It was covered in bits of food. 

Lifted up my foot and peered at the bottom. My foot could have been a sandwich. Little bread crumbs and a piece of lettuce clung to the bottom of my foot. I look up around the kitchen in disgust; the cupboards were all open and the tables, and counters, and floor were all covered in a thin layer of crumbs and other bits of dropped food. Only one thought came to my head: my new roommate. 

Ted was a nice guy but boy was he messy. His total disregard for cleaning up after himself left me wanting to gag every time I walked around the apartment. Trying to shake off my peeved attitude, I walked into his room to try and connect with him on a more personal level. He was furiously clicking away. Wrappers and bits of food shrouded him like a demented throne. It was silent and awkward for a moment. I spoke up, “Are you winning? What game is this?”
But my attempt was thwarted with a quick answer, “Close game. No talking.”
And that was the end of it.

photo from playbuzz.com

Little Rays of Sunshine

            Delson is your typical African child, overly friendly and curious to know the unknown. As a missionary, I loved being with, playing with, and messing with the little African or more specifically Angolan children.  These kids roam the streets day in and day out, using their imaginations to carry them day-to-day. Some wearing practically nothing to other kids wearing old Bananas in Pajamas t-shirts, they always carried a smile with them. But all of them would call us Chinese, without fail. Some kids would love us as we walked in their neighborhoods, while others would get really nervous and run away, some crying, thinking we were the walkers from the “Walking Dead”. 

              Once they aren’t afraid of you and start talking with you, they just love the attention. And once you pull out a camera, you start a feeding frenzy, where you would be talking to like 5 kids and then once the camera is pulled out, there would be like 20 kids out of nowhere. For example, one time in the street we were talking with some kids and they wanted us to film them as they did some tricks off this tire.  What they would do is get a running start and then jump off this old tire like it was a trampoline and do tricks off it. Well these 4 kids quickly turned into 30 kids doing tricks for us, and it was so funny. One kid did a front flip and biffed it bad and landed flat on his back with a huge thud like a kid belly flopping into a pool. 

       

They are some of the most interesting and funniest kids you will ever meet, and the way they are growing up isn’t affecting that. They have as much fun as any kid in the whole world.

Character and Humor in Personal Writing

As my students further learn how to compose life writing, I want them to practice writing that is character-centered (even for nonfiction), as well as writing that is lighter in tone. These can often work together. Two examples follow for creating character and humor in personal writing:

Brad's Idea of Titanic Lifeboat Rebellion

Brad Wilcox has inspired many people across the world. His name is widely known among Latter-Day Saints, and he is effective in getting his point across. Why? Because he uses word choice that relates to the audience and keeps their attention through stories.

I heard Brad Wilcox give a talk one night at a fireside in my stake. He spoke about how rules and guidelines don't hold us back; they free us. He then told a story that I will never forget:

He told us to imagine a lifeboat out in a freezing cold ocean, watching the Titanic sink in front of us. The lifeboat was put in place - much like church standards - to keep us safe. Then a young adult inside the boat says, "I want to go back to the Titanic."

"Children, children," Wilcox says, "This is the lifeboat."

"But they're playing music over there!"

"It's 'Nearer My God, To Thee,' and it's because they are going to die! There's not much to offer on a sinking ship."

This really made a difference on me. Of course you wouldn't leave the safety of a lifeboat to go back to the Titanic because they were playing music. This story was simple and it got the point across to the young adults at this meeting. Brad Wilcox used something humorous to lightheartedly play off the fact that rules really are there to protect us. He used a good fluctuation of voice to separate the young man's voice from his, and he kept the mood light and fun without using big words that aren't regularly in a teenager's vocabulary.

Brad Wilcox used stories and humor to leave a memorable story in my life. He understands the art of oratory literature, and how to best present it.