Ode to Buzz
Buzz was my first boyfriend. We met in 1977 at a Colorado band camp, and I was immediately intrigued by him. He was completely unique. He was likely the most intelligent person I've ever known, he possessed musical ability far beyond his years, and he seemed to have landed in the wrong century. He would change my life.
We started and ended as friends. He helped me get my first job and we worked together for years. In me he found a confidante. In him I found a challenge. He thought I was better than I thought I was, and he did his best to keep me moving ever upward, as you'll see in the letter below.
For our first date, Buzz's parents drove us out to Phillips University and dropped us off to see Madama Butterfly. We were in 9th grade! Neither of our parents understood us. We were just odd. We also went to music competitions together (challenging each other to bring home the medals in our respective categories), cooked together and listened to symphony recordings together...all in junior high.
Buzz's stepfather was one of the richest men in our town and built somewhat of a castle for them to live in. It was a beautiful home with a cabana, a pool, a tennis court, lighted steps, impeccable decoration, and a full liquor cabinet. (That cabinet was eventually Buzz's downfall.) At first Buzz hated the house. It was pretentious, he thought. I think he came to enjoy it, though. It suited him, really, whether he thought so or not.
Buzz and I parted ways for awhile during the college years, but eventually came back together (as friends) when he moved to Oklahoma City. We spent hours listening to music and cooking. Each year we chose season tickets for the ballet, symphony or a playhouse, and we always went for dessert after a performance to discuss what we had seen. Buzz bought me stacks of books for birthdays and Christmases and always gave me pointers about what to read in between.
The last letter I received from Buzz came in late November of 1994. Soon after, I learned he had died when I saw his obituary in the paper. Liver failure. He died just after he turned 30.
I still miss Buzz. I suppose I always will.
Buzz was my first boyfriend. We met in 1977 at a Colorado band camp, and I was immediately intrigued by him. He was completely unique. He was likely the most intelligent person I've ever known, he possessed musical ability far beyond his years, and he seemed to have landed in the wrong century. He would change my life.
We started and ended as friends. He helped me get my first job and we worked together for years. In me he found a confidante. In him I found a challenge. He thought I was better than I thought I was, and he did his best to keep me moving ever upward, as you'll see in the letter below.
For our first date, Buzz's parents drove us out to Phillips University and dropped us off to see Madama Butterfly. We were in 9th grade! Neither of our parents understood us. We were just odd. We also went to music competitions together (challenging each other to bring home the medals in our respective categories), cooked together and listened to symphony recordings together...all in junior high.
Buzz's stepfather was one of the richest men in our town and built somewhat of a castle for them to live in. It was a beautiful home with a cabana, a pool, a tennis court, lighted steps, impeccable decoration, and a full liquor cabinet. (That cabinet was eventually Buzz's downfall.) At first Buzz hated the house. It was pretentious, he thought. I think he came to enjoy it, though. It suited him, really, whether he thought so or not.
Buzz and I parted ways for awhile during the college years, but eventually came back together (as friends) when he moved to Oklahoma City. We spent hours listening to music and cooking. Each year we chose season tickets for the ballet, symphony or a playhouse, and we always went for dessert after a performance to discuss what we had seen. Buzz bought me stacks of books for birthdays and Christmases and always gave me pointers about what to read in between.
The last letter I received from Buzz came in late November of 1994. Soon after, I learned he had died when I saw his obituary in the paper. Liver failure. He died just after he turned 30.
I still miss Buzz. I suppose I always will.
posted by Jan at 10:53 AM
1 Comments:
Hey Jan... last August I went to visit some relatives in the cemetary, and I was surprised to find Buzz right there, very near to some of my family plots. I smiled and spent a few quiet moments with him, and I told him that you would say hello too. I thought about some of the fun (yet stupid) things the three of us cooked up that summer when we were 14 years old.... And somehow I just couldn't keep from grinning right there in the middle of the cemetary!! Wow, Buzz was so much fun, and I will always have fond memories of him too!! -- meg
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