1963 -
2018
At about 8 PM July 15, 1963 I was walking home from the De
Havilland Golf Centre in the Bathurst Manor neighborhood of North York when my
friend Jerome Lyons told me I was going to have to lose the jokes and become
more serious if I was going to navigate my life successfully. Helpful advice I
have not managed to use.
These were his last words of advice to me for some
time. The next morning my mum and I were flying to Los Angeles to begin new
lives there.
Jerome and I had been friends for about five years
from grade six thru grade 10. We were classmates in six but by 10 we’d been
separated. He got better grades so in its wisdom the system selected him to mix
with his kind, so they could evolve faster together, separating themselves even
more from the rest of us.
I returned from my time in Los Angeles in June of
1970. At first I didn't reach out to the friends I had left behind in 1963. It
was a group of six guys. We had been writing and I even visited Toronto in 1968
and saw them.
Quick aside. During that 1968 trip I visited York
University and was struck by the passionate demonstrations against the Spadina
Expressway. I had left passionate demonstrations against the war in Vietnam in
Los Angeles. Even at my young age then the irony that is Canada didn't escape
me.
I travelled back to Toronto with my friend Fred
Morse. Between spending time with him and reconnecting with relatives I
neglected my old friends.
But finally I did reconnect. My eldest sister lived
near Jerome's parents and it happened that I picked him up hitchhiking on a day
he was between cars. That was when our lifelong friendship began again.
I was out of school and about to start a job as a
wig salesman working for my brother who owned five stores. Jerome was starting
his last year in the UofT MBA program.
We decided to share an apartment. I had already
rented a basement apartment on the edge of the Republic of Rathnelly but was
able to let it go at the end of September.
We rented a swanky 2 bedroom 12th floor
apartment in a high rise near the Park Plaza Hotel. We were some kind of
lucky. It had a gorgeous view over the museum all the way to Rochester across
the lake. The carpets were an unforgettable shade of royal blue. The bedrooms
were at either end of the palace providing privacy. $255 per month. Including
parking.
The apartment was a central address for our group
because of its downtown location. Three guys were already married by this time.
Oh my, we were still in our early twenties.
There were often 10 or eleven people there sitting
around stoned listening to James Taylor, The Moody Blues and Van Morrison.
During this year we lived together Friday dinner
was reserved for Jerome's parents which also allowed us to empty his mother’s
freezer so she could happily spend the next week refilling it for us.
While Jerome's mum was a generous cook his dad had
the job of a lifetime. He was an executive at Exquisite Form, the undergarment
company. He never talked about his work but always seemed happy.
At the end of that year Jerome, with his newly
minted MBA, moved to Hamilton and started medical school at McMaster's new
accelerated program.
This was while I was resurrecting my inner student
and in September I started the same MBA program Jerome had just finished. Was I
following his lead?
We were mostly separated for three years as he was
focused on med school while I completed the MBA, travelled to far away places,
started my career with a job in Ottawa, returned to Toronto, bought a house
and, oh yeah, got married.
When Jerome returned to Toronto to intern and
become Dr. Lyons at Scarborough General we were able to spend more time
together. We enjoyed tennis and squash which we competed at for 20 years at
least. He was always a little better than me. I never had to let him win.
While Margie and I were vacationing in Morocco
during the last week of 1975 Jerome had the run of our home to prepare the New
Year’s party we were throwing. Margie and I came home to our 12 foot wide mini
house not many hours before about 100 people arrived to squeeze in.
Jerome met Jan early in 1977 and they were soon
engaged. By this time Margie and I had bought and moved into a duplex. We built
a new deck over our garage to host an engagement party for Jan and Jerome in
that confined space.
The 1980’s were a blur of tennis, squash, brises
and baby namings.
In 1990 golf entered our lives and we and two other
men from grade six formed a Saturday morning foursome. We travelled far and
wide in the GTA to get to 8 am tee times. Sleep was a standard activity on the
drive home but never once did our designated driver fall asleep, and crash,
before arriving home. I don't know what the logic was to play dark and early.
We were generally useless to our wives in the afternoon.
Jerome’s choice to be a doctor has been consistent
with his personality. He is genuinely helpful. Two good examples related
to lapses of memory I suffered. The first time was around 1980. I was talking
to Jerome on the phone when the doorbell rang. I said “hold on for a sec”.
Whoever was at the door distracted me and I forgot about Jerome. His concern at
me leaving him hanging led him to drive over to my house to see if I was ok.
Sweet guy eh? The second time I was on my car phone with him when I was in a
minor car accident. Once again I forgot about him. And once again he showed up
to see if I was OK. What a good man!
We’re still going strong with regular meals and
coffee and occasionally golf.
It’s a scary world. My friend Jerome is one of
those people who shows that we’re not alone as we face the daily grind.
November 29, 2018
January 10, 2019
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