I find it funny when people say something that sounds like the title to this post. Sure, the years may have gone by fast, but you can't possibly mistake something that happened a large amount of years ago for something that happened yesterday. And yes, I know it's just a phrase that people use, but nobody can actually feel something many years passed like they did the day it happened.
Or so you would believe.
When I was 10, I saw my dad cry for the first time. Since then, I've seen him cry, maybe twice more: when his mother died, and when my sister got married. But that morning of December 10, 1988 as I stood in the kitchen and he answered the ringing phone, that one takes the cake.
15 seconds after he said hello, the phone was placed back on the hook, his head lowered. And I heard him begin.
"Dad...what's wrong," asked I?
He said nothing. And I stood next to him, scared and grabbed his hand.
"Dad..." whispered me.
"Louie got killed, Scott. Go get dressed, we're goin to the fire house," said he.
I went and dressed while I thought about the things the sentence my dad just said to me actually meant. At 10-years old, I had no clue what it meant. To this day, I'm certain that I still don't know what it meant to all that were involved.
You see, Louie was a guy on the volunteer fire department with my dad. And because the fireman in my home town were so close to one another, Louie was like family to me. He was one of my best friends cousins. Brother of one of my mom's friends. Best friends with another guy who was like family becuase, he too, was a fireman. There are far too many ways to describe how this guy was, in someway, part of the very large family that was our hometown.
He was one of the nicest guys I've ever met. Sure, when you're 10-years old, everybody is nice to you, but Louie made it a point to be extra nice to us little rats. Especially my kid brother Tim.
Tim is 27 now, so he was six the day of that call. Tim was impressed by Louie. Wanted to be like him everytime he seen him. For some reason, I'm not even sure my kid brother knows why, but he used to call Louie and Mike "M and M Jimited". M & M becuase both of their last names started with the letter M. Jimited? There has never been a clear reason but, back then, my kid brother had a little bit of a studer so we think he was trying to say M & M Limited. But even if he was trying to say that, I'm not sure why.
Anyway, when Tim would see Louie at the firehouse, or someplace else where we all used to get together, like white on rice, Tim was with Louie. Louie gave him the nickname that, to this day, a very large part of our hometown still knows him by: Timmy Dog.
M & M Jimited were, when together, a handful. If one came up with some crack pot idea, the other would just as fast come up with improvements to the initial idea and make it even more funny. Like these times I remember.
-They used to go to the Super Chevy Car Show each year. Most people would believe it to be a car show to show off your sweet ride. M & M Jimited made it a point to have the cookiest car there. Do all types of crazy things to the car before they evn pulled outta town. I can't remember if it was them or Louie's younger brother Joe and his cousin Stevie who did this but one year I remember a purple station wagon, with swirl painted on the hubcaps, a barber chair installed in the back with a plastic dome covering the hole in the roof with a giant squirt gun positioned out of it so to shoot at cars as they cruised down the road. Things like that were normal for M & M Jimited.
-They used to be a giving pair. I can remember two instances. The first was Halloween. The second, Christmas. During the week of Halloween, mom took Tim, our sister Tricia and me to the local pumpkin farm to get us one. We came home, carved it up real nice, put it on the porch and baked the seeds. The next morning as we walked out the door on our way to school, on our porch sat the biggest pumpkin I've ever seen in person. No lie, my dad had to get the neighbor to come over and help him move the damn thing it was so big. The second was, on the same porch, as we left for school one morning, a 20-foot tall christmas tree that M & M Jimited must have wrapped a chain around and pulled it out of the ground with a truck.
Or so you would believe.
When I was 10, I saw my dad cry for the first time. Since then, I've seen him cry, maybe twice more: when his mother died, and when my sister got married. But that morning of December 10, 1988 as I stood in the kitchen and he answered the ringing phone, that one takes the cake.
15 seconds after he said hello, the phone was placed back on the hook, his head lowered. And I heard him begin.
"Dad...what's wrong," asked I?
He said nothing. And I stood next to him, scared and grabbed his hand.
"Dad..." whispered me.
"Louie got killed, Scott. Go get dressed, we're goin to the fire house," said he.
I went and dressed while I thought about the things the sentence my dad just said to me actually meant. At 10-years old, I had no clue what it meant. To this day, I'm certain that I still don't know what it meant to all that were involved.
You see, Louie was a guy on the volunteer fire department with my dad. And because the fireman in my home town were so close to one another, Louie was like family to me. He was one of my best friends cousins. Brother of one of my mom's friends. Best friends with another guy who was like family becuase, he too, was a fireman. There are far too many ways to describe how this guy was, in someway, part of the very large family that was our hometown.
He was one of the nicest guys I've ever met. Sure, when you're 10-years old, everybody is nice to you, but Louie made it a point to be extra nice to us little rats. Especially my kid brother Tim.
Tim is 27 now, so he was six the day of that call. Tim was impressed by Louie. Wanted to be like him everytime he seen him. For some reason, I'm not even sure my kid brother knows why, but he used to call Louie and Mike "M and M Jimited". M & M becuase both of their last names started with the letter M. Jimited? There has never been a clear reason but, back then, my kid brother had a little bit of a studer so we think he was trying to say M & M Limited. But even if he was trying to say that, I'm not sure why.
Anyway, when Tim would see Louie at the firehouse, or someplace else where we all used to get together, like white on rice, Tim was with Louie. Louie gave him the nickname that, to this day, a very large part of our hometown still knows him by: Timmy Dog.
M & M Jimited were, when together, a handful. If one came up with some crack pot idea, the other would just as fast come up with improvements to the initial idea and make it even more funny. Like these times I remember.
-They used to go to the Super Chevy Car Show each year. Most people would believe it to be a car show to show off your sweet ride. M & M Jimited made it a point to have the cookiest car there. Do all types of crazy things to the car before they evn pulled outta town. I can't remember if it was them or Louie's younger brother Joe and his cousin Stevie who did this but one year I remember a purple station wagon, with swirl painted on the hubcaps, a barber chair installed in the back with a plastic dome covering the hole in the roof with a giant squirt gun positioned out of it so to shoot at cars as they cruised down the road. Things like that were normal for M & M Jimited.
-They used to be a giving pair. I can remember two instances. The first was Halloween. The second, Christmas. During the week of Halloween, mom took Tim, our sister Tricia and me to the local pumpkin farm to get us one. We came home, carved it up real nice, put it on the porch and baked the seeds. The next morning as we walked out the door on our way to school, on our porch sat the biggest pumpkin I've ever seen in person. No lie, my dad had to get the neighbor to come over and help him move the damn thing it was so big. The second was, on the same porch, as we left for school one morning, a 20-foot tall christmas tree that M & M Jimited must have wrapped a chain around and pulled it out of the ground with a truck.
-Everything was left at the front door of our house. Not sure where things were left at other houses, but the "gifts" from M & M Jimited were always at our front door, begging our neighbors to come over and ask what the story was behind it. Like the time dad opened the door to scoop the Sunday paper off the front stoop and, much to his suprose, was greeted by a stop sign, with 10-foot pole still intact, and a great boulder of concrete at the bottom. They must have used the chain and the truck again!
But sadly, after the call that morning, it seemed like the funny things that happened so frequently, kinda stopped. Louie had died on a snowmobiling trip up North. And the family that he belonged to, and the families that adopted him as a member of their own, had to learn how to cope with that. His parents, his brothers, his sisters, his best friend, his cousins, aunts, uncles and my little brother, who knew nothing about life yet, all asking why Louie was gone.
So, Louie, 21 years have passed without you. But not a single day has gone by without somebody having a memory of you.
Lawrence "Louie" Moorman
Dec. 26, 1966- Dec. 10, 1988
But sadly, after the call that morning, it seemed like the funny things that happened so frequently, kinda stopped. Louie had died on a snowmobiling trip up North. And the family that he belonged to, and the families that adopted him as a member of their own, had to learn how to cope with that. His parents, his brothers, his sisters, his best friend, his cousins, aunts, uncles and my little brother, who knew nothing about life yet, all asking why Louie was gone.
So, Louie, 21 years have passed without you. But not a single day has gone by without somebody having a memory of you.
Lawrence "Louie" Moorman
Dec. 26, 1966- Dec. 10, 1988
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