Not long ago, my friend, Marko,
and I went to get some beers at a microbrewery called “The Solemn Oath.” It is nothing more than a warehouse that has
a taproom and a radio, where you can watch them do their thing. While we were
there and having a good time, I realized how important was the role that Marko
played in my life story.
I’m not exactly sure when I
met Marko. It might have been at a
neighborhood party or a picnic. It might
have been through our wives. It might
have been because our oldest children were the same age and were close friends
at school. It doesn’t matter. All I know is that Marko is my friend, and that he
once saved my life.
Marko and his wife, Suzie, originally
lived a couple of blocks down from us and then they moved a bit further out to
a bigger house. Marko and I rode the train into the city together and would
often talk. I was Marko’s middle son’s
first soccer coach, and he was my middle son’s football coach, which he did
quite well. As families we became very
close.
One night, Suzie called me, and
said, “Tom, can you come and take the boys? Something horrible has happened.” I
said “Yes,” jumped into the car and went right over. When I got there I found Suzie crying. I saw Marko on the phone, also crying. I asked Suzie, “What is happening here?”
She said, “We just heard that
Marko’s brother died in a car accident.
Can you please take the boys?”
I said, “Yes. Yes, I can.” I
went into the kitchen and gave Marko a hug, and then I rounded up the boys and
took them to our house. That night they
played video games and when they were exhausted we wrapped up all of them,
Marko’s and mine, like pigs in blankets and laid them sideways on our
four-poster bed.
I
went to Marko’s brother’s funeral in the city.
It was very difficult because you could see how much pain his parents
and he were in. Also, a good portion was in Ukrainian, so I didn’t know what
was being said. It doesn’t matter. That is what you do for friends
One summer I bought myself a new gas
grill. We invited Marko, Suzie, and their
kids to come over to christen it. Marko and I were having a beer, and just as I
was putting tenderloin on the cage, Marko said “I hear a hissing sound.”
I said, “Yeah I do too. Maybe
something is loose.”
I went down to look and just
at that moment the plastic fixture that connected the line into the propane tank
broke off. After that gas came pouring
out. It ignited into an inferno, and subsequently caught me on fire. Marko did what people are supposed to do in
these situations. He tackled me and threw me in the grass. He rolled me around until the flames were
out. Suzie and my wife ran into the
house and grabbed everything they could out of the freezer to throw on me. My oldest son, Ben, had the right mind to call
911. He said “My father is burned. What should I do?” When he told them our location,
they told him that we were so close to the hospital it would be better for them
to call them and then just get me there.
Marko loaded me into the car,
took me to the emergency room and sat with me as they gooped me up with burn
reliever and bandaged me. He sat and
listened as they murmured about whether I needed to go to the burn ward at
Loyola in Maywood . When they
decided that I was going to be okay, he took me to the drugstore, for a
boatload of Vicotin, then took me home and got me into bed.
Shortly after the fire, my
neighbor, Julie, cut my hair, and trimmed my eyebrows to get out all the things
that had been singed. It smelled
terrible. I still have scars on my chest from where the plastic buttons on my
shirt melted; I still have no hair on my arms like I used too. When I got the bandages off a few weeks
later, a girl I knew from the train said to me, “Wow your hands and arms are like
a baby’s butt.” Nice sentiment. It was true, but I was just glad to still be
alive,and I have Marko to thank for that.
Throughout the time I was
recovering, Marko came by every now and then to check on me. Marko has always
checked on me and I think that is why I like him so much. He cares about
people.
When I revealed to people
that I had Parkinsons, Marko came over to sit on my couch, talk for awhile, and
make me feel good. He showed me the tattoo he had just got to honor his oldest
son. C.J. had always been in the band, and
was going off to study music in college, so Marko got a bass clef put on his
arm. I liked that a lot.
I think it is kind of ironic,
and kind of cool, that the last time Marko and I went out together we went to “The
Solemn Oath.” I think there is somewhat of a solemn oath between the two of us
that has a lot to do with our long-term friendship and what we have been
through together. I’m thinking we both
have taken a quiet solemn oath that we will both always take care of each
other, our families, and the people around us.
And that, Charlie Brown, is
what friendship, and neighbors, are all about.
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