Saturday, July 16, 2011
Every so often for the past 40 years or so, I would get a call from Jeff, and we would just talk. Jeff loved to relive our high school days. He would describe in amazing detail the crazy things we did, and for a while, we really were 17 or 18 again.
He always seemed to want confirmation for the things that he felt defined him, the way he dressed, his strength, his shot in basketball, and his friendships. In every conversation, for 40 years, he never failed to relive those memories, and never failed to bring Scott Mulbrook, Myrle Atwood, Tyra Waddell, and Billie Weeks along with us. I realized after a while that those stories, and those faces had never faded for Jeff, nor for me, and that we've kept them safely in our hearts all these years. He'd laugh so hard he would get tears in his eyes, and that was good stuff. I knew our conversations were therapy.
Jeff also carried the love of his family with him, and in our last conversation this spring, he shared with his regret in not doing more to show it. He was as proud of Bruce as any big brother could ever be, and through so many inferences, made it clear that Don and Helen were his true heroes.
While our last conversation followed the same pattern as all the others, I sensed a slightly different tone in Jeff's usual declarations of health and lucky bounces. For a moment I thought he might just listen to my usual sermon about working with me to get healthy, but it wasn't to be. True to form, Jeff finished my sermon by declaring his invincibility, and that he was free and answered to no one.
A part of me, maybe the lingering 18 year old, will always envy the freedom and defiance that defined Jeffrey Ray Barton. We tried to follow, but couldn't keep up, and that was the blessing that none of us would understand until he was out of sight.
Now Hollywood, you really are free. Free to hear the prayers that I've said for you, and will continue to say. And when you feel like picking me up in the Mustang, sneaking a few shots from Don's liquor cabinet, and being 17 and 18 again, let me know, I'll be waiting.
Love ya and miss ya,
Eddie
