Jeff Brunson

The contest is underway – to name the weekend we will all be together.

Simple Impact
For me, it began 45 years ago with Steve. It was January 1964 when my family moved to Clinton. It was just after Christmas break, in the middle of my fifth grade year, when I was delivered to the new elementary school. My mom left me in the hands of the Principal’s office to get me to the right class.

The classrooms in this 1960′s school were typical in most respects. However, it is still strange in my mind that the rooms were entered from the back – the door being between the first and second rows from the right with the space in between being the path to the front of the room. So there I stood with the adult who had escorted me to that spot. And it was at that spot that this story really begins – as I remember it like it was yesterday.

I stood there in my subtle plaid trousers, black wingtips, and black framed glasses staring at the back of fifth grade heads. The teacher looked up and turned all those heads around to stare at me by announcing, “Class, we have a new student.” And there they all sat staring while the teacher simply stood and stared.

Then way up on that front row to my right a boy stood up, walked back to where I stood, took my overcoat, hung it up, and led me to an empty desk on that row.

Over the next 2 or so years, friends came and went as they do early in life. But Steve was always there. As good friendships go, you begin to make new connections. You share your network and you benefit from the extended networks of your friends.

The Other Important Stories
My first experience with Steve is very special as it is the only story of an initial meeting my memory has held. Thankfully, there are many stories that are attached to each of the boys. I treasure each and every one for the importance the story holds in the bonds that have been forged between me and each of them.

Joe
Joe and I have shared so much over the years. I think there was a time when we literally knew everything about one another … and we still stayed friends.

Joe loved cars that were close to being relegated to the junk yard. I remember the 53 Chevy he bought for $50 and then painted dark blue. We ran out of gas many a time in that car. One specific time I remember Joe feeling the jerking motion of an engine strangling from a lack of fuel, reaching over to the glove box and punching it open while claiming, “I believe there’s money in there.” There was one dollar. In those days, that was more than enough to get us home.

Another one of my favorite stories took place in his old Plymouth. He and Teri had been married a short time and Becky and I were engaged. We were on our way to dine out with Becky and me in the back seat. They got into a slight spat over something that led Joe to say something like, “That’s okay, when Jeff and Becky get married I will just go over and spend the night on their couch.” I responded, “No you won’t.” Joe intently glared in the rear view mirror puzzled. I said, “Listen, you’ve chosen Teri to love. Therefore, I love her too. Just as it is perceived that I take your side by letting you stay on my couch, you two make up and then bang, she’s all mad at me and I’ve lost an important friend. So you just make up and stay at home.” Teri was quite pleased, looking at Joe and nodding with a triumphant, “Huh!”

It is fortunate in this life to experience even a little unconditional love. I’ve been fortunate to experience a lot of it. Joe has been the source of a significant amount of this love. There were times when good things happened to me that easily cause envy and jealousy in the average human. Joe was always deeply proud for me and of me. For this exhibition, I am deeply grateful.

Don
This reunion weekend I so look forward to would absolutely not happen if it were not for Don. And I don’t mean just the planning it takes to make something like this happen. You see, when people ask me about how these friends have stayed in touch all through these years, the answer is simple. We had a catalyst … Don. For all of the 35+ years since high school, he has kept us all in touch – informed about what is happening with each other – not to mention that he has been the catalyst for almost every single gathering in those 35 years.

Recently, I was having lunch with a great supporter of mine who was asking some very interesting questions about my life and work. Somehow, I told him the story of how everyone was celebrating at our high school graduation, throwing hats in the air and whooping … except Don. He was sobbing. I inquired almost judgingly, “What’s wrong with you?” He said, “It’s all over man!” ‘What?” I replied. “Our group will go off and lose touch.” He didn’t let that happen.

I’m constantly amazed at the teaching power of our life experiences. When we lived in Ohio, a brother of one off my daughter’s friends died suddenly. This family lived just down the street and Anna walked down to be with her friend. When she got back, she said to me, “Dad, I did what you taught me.” I had no idea what she was talking about until she said, “You know, your story of Mr. Don.”

It was Sunday morning during my teen years, I was almost ready to head off to church and the phone rang. It was Don. He said, “My dad was killed last night. I thought you would want to know.” I didn’t know what to say beyond a yes and thank you. I went into the den where my mom was sitting and told her. She immediately began to cry and said, “Son, he called because he needs you – go!” I grabbed my keys and headed off to his home.

I knocked on the door, Don answered, and immediately fell out the door into my arms. We went up to his room where I remember sitting with him for about 3 hours. He talked of his dad. I went home. I remembered telling Anna this story and how 15 years later Don said to me, “Jeff, I will never forget your words when my dad died.” I told Anna, “I was with him for 3 hours. I never said a word.” And that is what Anna meant when she said, “I did what you taught me.”

James
James is James. Consistency is a lost art in this world.

There are literally a million stories about this boy James. But there is one we all tell. We loved to camp at one particular place along the Natchez Trace Parkway – Rocky Springs. We had one favorite camp site that we had successfully procured for this particular trip. In those days the ranger came by to collect the fee. We got things unloaded and then headed off to get water leaving James to light the fire. Actually, we just went down the hill to listen to him cuss as he fought to get the fire to take … as one match after the other failed to strike or catch anything in a flame.

That’s when the ranger stopped by to talk with us and collect the fee. We said to him, “Sure, would you mind collecting from our friend James. He’s right up there lighting the campfire?” You can imagine the silly laughter that went on behind the ranger as he approached our fowl-mouthed boy scout!

James is James. And that is a great thing. He has no fear about being who he is.

Jamie
Down-to-earth cool … that’s how I’ve always thought of Jamie.

Jamie’s cool and easy style did not come easily in the atmosphere of the 70′s. Fortunately his foundation was in a great home. We knew a lot about that home because we all spent so much time there. It’s a rare warm summer night that doesn’t remind me of those evenings of playing kick-the-can in Jamie’s back yard. We played baseball there. We played so many football games, well, I could more easily guess the number of jelly beans in a 5-gallon jar.

Jamie’s parents were the perfect picture of one of the key support factors that caused us to form the bond we have – we were all loved by each others parents. Their home was our home. His mom and dad would sit and talk with us like we had some sense. It is a huge confidence builder to be treated as intelligent by someone who is intelligent, to be treated kindly by someone who is kind, and to simply be acknowledged.

I believe it was Steve who hit what seemed like a home run in the making when the ball went through the big plate glass window in the breakfast room. Jamie’s parents didn’t flinch. They called the glass people, assured us all was well, and we resumed play.

While we are proud of who Jamie has become, we have always been proud of who he is.

Gary
Logic could say that all Gary and I had in common was our trumpets as Gary would play in the concert band when football season was over. But I feel a brotherly connection with him. Our parents were good buddies and would often get together. Before being free to drive ourselves around, that meant Gary and I would end up spending time together … time of which I am very grateful.

Gary has carried his gift of gab this whole time I’ve known him. He has a deeply intelligent humor that I love. Even in humor, it seems he is trying to share something with us … to teach. Gary’s thoughtful walk through life has been important to each of us.

James’ heart attack and Gary’s plight with cancer have brought us all to consider our own mortality. We have been deeply concerned about Gary this last 18 months or so. But as often happens in this kind of situation, you reach out to minister to the ill and they seem to minister to you. I guess this is the sharing, teaching Gary.

Anticipation
During Gary’s treatments, we were catching up by phone and he asked if I was interested in finding a time for the Clinton Boys to get together somewhere centrally located. “Absolutely” was my response.

So here we are preparing for this weekend get-together by giving the time a name. What a fabulous idea as it only adds to the excitement and anticipation we each feel.

What will happen? Who knows. This I do know, it will be right and good.

“Concerning all acts of initiative … there is one elementary truth … that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too …”
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Men
My life has been impacted so powerfully by these boys. I stay with the word ‘boys’ because that’s when these men began their impact on me and each other.

The boy Steve – Gentleness and kindness exemplified

The boy Joe – Love freely offered unconditionally

The boy Don – The gift of loyalty wrapped in dedication

The boy James – The stability of fun keeping us all boys

The boy Jamie – The model for honor and duty lived out with joy

The boy Gary – Our sage wise from his youngest years

I loved these boys and I love these men.

The Favorite Campsite